


Endless Ocean

by ClaritaWinter, Isabelle Hemlock (isabelle_hemlock)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bodyguard AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, NO homophobia/queerphobia in this world (yay!), TW: Blood, TW: Knives, TW: Violence, accidental cuddling - "accidental", and as always - Nile is the most emotionally mature one who sees through everyone, and the "kisses in front of a fireplace" trope, and the "oh no only one bed trope", but we do have stalkers (like - I'm going to kidnap you-level stalkers), does-my-Dad-even-care (spoiler: yes son he's just got legal troubles right now, emotional walls that are Mt. Everest high, like crap man there's A LOT of angst in this fic, multi fic, or listen to the song "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" the same way again -, so medium burn?, so please make sure to always read beginning notes, someone prays once like that's it, someone stutters when they panic - they panic a lot in this fic, that takes like half the fic to figure out, the cat is the emotional support animal we all need, the path is not linear, themes/tropes:, to help avoid spoilers in the tag, tragic backstories for daysss, tw: anxiety, tw: death, tw: familial death, tw: guns, tw: non penetrative sexual assaults, tw: recovery after trauma, tw: trauma, we got found family too!, we got the "someone is sick with a fever - so I'm going to take care of them" trope, we will add additional tw/cw in beginning notes of chapters as needed, you will never look at the ocean the same way again -
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 128,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaritaWinter/pseuds/ClaritaWinter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabelle_hemlock/pseuds/Isabelle%20Hemlock
Summary: Nicolò Di Genova is home for the summer after he graduated college - except, things are tense and strange.  His Dad, a big shot lawyer who works for Merrick Enterprises, has hired extra security, and seems a bit miffed he came home for the summer instead of touring Europe like he had wanted him, too.  But Nicky was just trying to spend his summer in the pool while he works some things out . . .Joe is hired as extra security to watch over a guy who knows nothing about life (or so he thinks).  This is his last job, and then he’s done - he’s out, and can just focus on what he needs to do next.  But what was supposed to be an easy job of watching a rich kid sunbathing while his Dad coordinates his grand jury testimony with the DEA, turns into something much more dangerous.  It’s not just Nicky’s Dad who is in danger - it’s Nicky, too.Because someone has decided he wants him all to himself . . . and it’s not just Joe.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 393
Kudos: 373





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Luz Clarita and I are ecstatic to finally share a project we have been working on for a while ❤ 
> 
> Though it starts as a bodyguard AU, we decided to expand/change a few key points from the [prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/8201.html?thread=2961929#cmt2961929) \- namely no homophobia, or drug use, no mafia (but there is corruption and DEA agents abound), and made Nile Nicky’s childhood best friend vs one of the security team members. And it has evolved into something quite deep with themes of loss, grief and recovery from trauma. 
> 
> (So please make sure you read both the tags above, and read the beginning notes in each chapter for additional tw/cw that might appear in future chapters - though the first few chapters are character build up, we do have a false opening in this chapter that is describing a non con sexual assault _beginning_ to happen (but not descriptive). 
> 
> Lastly, even though I have the privilege of writing this story, there is absolutely no way this fic would have happened without Luz Clarita's input, feedback, encouragement, and support - she came up with half of it, and I am so very grateful she coordinated with me to help bring this story to life. We hope it resonates with people and that survivors can feel that, though recovery can look varied from person to person, there is hope after trauma (even when the path is not linear)

* * *

_“Show me a hero, and I’ll write you a tragedy.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald_

  
  


* * *

  
  


There was too much blood. 

_Far too much -_  
  
Nicky could feel the weight of him slithering over his lower half, like a snake, ready to strike again at any moment. He wanted to keep his eyes on Joe, wanted his last moments to be filled with visions of him. But, his own sad, twisted, angry face was a stark reminder of the reality Nicky was trying to fade away from. It would be over soon enough. The pain would end, and in a way, the only disappointment that really remained were the now broken promises, and the things left unsaid. It was almost poetic how much he turned out to be like his parents after all. 

He looked away from Joe when he felt his pants being tugged on. Felt the clammy, bloody, hands pulling on his zipper. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, and shifted his eyes to the broken window twenty feet above the ground. Nicky couldn’t tell if it was the head wound, or the shock, but he felt as if he was drifting away. Even Joe’s roaring threats against his attacker began to sound muffled.  
  
When he felt the fingernails scraping along his hip bone, yanking down his pants roughly, Nicky closed his eyes, and imagined the waves washing over him.  
  
 _‘Joe . . . I’m sorry.’_

* * *

  
  


_Ten Weeks Earlier . . .  
_

_June 2nd - Monday_

_Di Genova Property_

Nicky grabbed his suitcase from the trunk, balancing it on the sidewalk, before reaching in the backseat for the cat carrier. Felicia, his short haired calico cat, never seemed all too bothered by car rides, but this one had been a long one. Shutting the car door, he finalized the payment with the uber driver (making sure to leave a generous tip), and waited till it pulled away to slouch his shoulders. He didn’t exactly feel like rushing up the long driveway to see his Dad.

Not when he hadn’t told him beforehand he was coming home for the summer.  
Or that he had decided to forgo the European tour his Dad, Lucio, had booked for him.  
  
Then again, Lucio had barely acknowledged him graduating from culinary school, so the lack of communication skills tended to go both ways. Nicky had received a simple card a week ago, the front decorated with an almost plain _‘congratulations’_ , the inside contained his tickets, and a printed itinerary sheet. When he unfolded the paper it said, _‘have fun’_ , but Nicky could tell based on the handwriting that it wasn’t his Dad’s. It had hurt more than he wanted to admit that Lucio couldn’t even sign the card.

Besides, he had spent plenty of summers in Europe growing up. 

And since he had been more than reckless in his formative years, not all of them were places he wanted to revisit.

Though, had Nicky opened up to Lucio months ago and told him of his plans with the local community center, then maybe he wouldn’t have tried shipping him off to Europe in the first place. _Well - maybe . . ._ for all he knew, Lucio would likely assume he was solely home for the pool, and until Nicky had the more formal arrangements taken care of, he didn’t exactly _want_ to share his plans with his Dad either. 

He worried Lucio might try to talk him out of the investment, but it was Nicky’s trust fund to do with as he pleased. So until it was all finalized, he would hold it protectively close to his heart, and hope that once it was all said and done - that Lucio wouldn’t begrudge him for it.

Punching in the numbers for the gate, the metal made a grinding sort of sound against the gears as it slowly pulled back behind the plaster barrier. The property line was surrounded by ten feet high stone stucco walls, and a long, wide, bricked driveway led up the green hill to the large, white house nestled at the top. It was a modern, geometric structure - [a mansion really](https://imgur.com/a/Zo0XiRu), devoid of warmth in both its design, and main resident.  
  
It was technically Nicky’s house, too. 

But he hadn’t lived in it in four years, only visiting for a holiday here and there.  
  
However, the house really was big enough that if Lucio was _that_ upset about him being home for the summer, he could lounge in the staff area’s kitchen and common rooms. They likely wouldn’t mind. He had kept in touch with the house staff over the years - his suitcase carrying small, wrapped, gifts he had bought for each of them since the last time he was back. If anything, _they_ would likely be happy to see him.

“Hey you - stop right _there_.”

Nicky was so surprised by the sudden appearance of the guard, his body jostled slightly - and Felicia gave an immediate protest as she scurried towards the back of her cage. He felt bad for his jerky movements having scared her, but felt frozen under the cold stare of the stranger holding a large hand in front of him, “How did you get in here?”  
  
Nicky relaxed his shoulders a little, lowering his arms slowly, in case the guard decided to unholster the gun that was attached to his belt, “I - I live here.”  
  
The man narrowed his eyes on him, looking downright confused, “No - you don’t.”  
  
 _That_ made him roll his eyes, and he huffed, “I’m Nicky - Lucio’s son.” 

The guard gave him a stern look, then tilted his head to the side, as he began to talk into the small radio clipped close to his shoulder, “We got someone here claiming to be - _hey, wait_ \- “

Nicky easily walked around the man, and resumed the steady climb along the driveway. 

He didn’t really care for the theatrics his Dad had fallen into lately. As a corporate lawyer, he was always a bit of a workaholic, and a bit paranoid. His family had immigrated to America when he was only two years old, but his Dad had insisted on the house staff coming with them. He seemed distrustful of most people, and had no problem keeping Nicky and his mother as insulated as possible. Even when the original house staff phased out, Lucio would hire other Italian immigrants for replacements. He insisted on only Italian being spoken in the home, and between the staff, and his Italian tutors, Nicky still carried a mild accent even today.  
  
The higher his Dad climbed up the Merrick company ladder, the more withdrawn he had become. He had always been resolute on at least a few guards along the property (even with the gated community, and the highest walls in the neighborhood). And when Nicky had insisted on getting to leave the property in his teens, Lucio demanded a bodyguard going along with him at all times. Of course, he had managed to give them the slip easily enough, but the fights with his Dad when he would come back at night were enough to deter him from acting out too much (well, at first).   
  
But having armed guards on the _driveway?_ It seemed a little intense, even for his Dad.

Nicky simply ignored the guard’s pleas to _‘stop’_ , and _‘wait’_ \- doubting he’d actually try to physically tackle him. When a second guard emerged from the house, he wasn’t surprised, and things seemed to calm down almost immediately when the man’s radio behind him confirmed who he was. Though, he was surprised to hear _two_ American accents. Outside of Nile’s Dad hired _years_ ago, he couldn’t recall Lucio ever having multiple Americans on the property.

When he finally reached the front steps, the second guard stepped aside, and apologized for the confusion, but Nicky decided to shrug it off. He figured it was an honest mistake - besides, no one’s fault that his Dad never hung up any family pictures in the home. How were the new hires supposed to know what he looked like?  
  
He did pause just inside the doorway, his voice echoing slightly into the high vaulted ceilings above them, “Where’s my Dad?”  
  
“Office,” the guard pointed down the hall with his head, closing the front door behind them. Nicky decided to leave his suitcase there, in case he was about to pick it back up again, but did place the carrier on the shiny, concrete floors. He unhooked the metal barrier, and carefully reached inside to scoop Felicia into his arms. She immediately relaxed within them, snuggling close to the center of his chest, and Nicky gave the top of her head a gentle scratch. They had helped each other more times than he could fathom over the years, and once more he’d cling to her, while he approached his Dad.   
  
The guard walked alongside him, his thick boots sounding heavy against the floor, while Nicky’s converse made a squeaky noise when they rounded the corner.   
  
The large, empty, white hallway ended with a frosted glass paneled door, and from the shadows just beyond, Nicky could see that there were several other people in Lucio’s office. He usually didn’t allow visitors to their home, which was another recent change that left Nicky wondering what _else_ he had missed since his last visit a year and a half before. The guard extended his hand, essentially blocking Nicky from opening the door. He was about to walk around him, ignoring him as easily as he had the guard outside, but this one shook his head - like he knew what Nicky was planning and told him, _‘don’t even think about it’_ with one cold look.

Felicia must have sensed his unease, because she lifted her head away from his plain white shirt, and hissed at the man.   
  
He gripped her a little tighter, hoping she wouldn’t try to jump out of his arms next, while the guard moved back a bit. He grumbled out _‘nice cat’_ , before suddenly the door opened, and Nicky turned to see a third man in a suit holding the handle, “Good afternoon, Mr. Di Genova.”  
  
He lifted a curious eyebrow, looking just passed him, and spotted his father sitting behind his desk - flanked by two _other_ men in suits. Now he worried he might have interrupted some sort of meeting. No matter what was going on between his Dad and him, Nicky would never mean to disrupt something important. He hesitated to step forward, and worse, Lucio didn’t look all that thrilled either.  
  
Once inside, the man closed the door, leaving the guard in the hallway, and Nicky shifted his eyes between the three strangers in the room. He was unsure what to say.  
  
“Nicolò, I -” Lucio started, but paused when Nicky locked eyes with him. His shoulders slumped a little, and he sounded confused, and even a bit exasperated, “What are you doing here?”  
  
Nicky was grateful for the distraction of Felicia’s fur rubbing against his bare arms. It helped with the pain, “I - I thought -” He stopped, glancing up at the other men for a moment, and quietly began to apologize, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, we can talk later?”  
  
Lucio’s hand flexed a little, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk tighter, “Are - are you thinking of staying here?”  
  
“Uh,” Nicky really wished it was just him and his Dad at the moment. It felt strange to argue his case for getting to stay in his old room in front of these men. So he didn’t, “I - I just wanted to spend the summer here.”  
  
Lucio looked genuinely confused, and he asked why he wasn’t in Europe _‘as planned’_ . There were so many answers to that question, and Nicky knew that he didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now, and likely not ever. It was easier to just ignore it all together. Just the five minute conversation had been more exhausting than the entire trip home, “I cancelled the tickets. I sent the refund to your accountant.”  
  
He gripped Felicia a little tighter, and she purred against him, a small vibration that helped a little. But still, he kept his chin close to his chest, his eyes focused on the way her fur shifted with her gentle breathing, “If - if you don’t want me to, give me a few days, and I can find a place for the summer -”

“No,” came Lucio’s immediate reply, and Nicky was surprised by the tone in his voice. It sounded almost desperate? But once their eyes locked again, he shifted in his chair, nervously glancing at the other men in the room, before sounding a little quieter in his response, “You’re here now. So stay.”  
  
 _Thanks for the warm welcome, Dad._

He knew better than to expect outright happiness at his appearance, but this felt strange. Even for Lucio. Nicky questioned for a moment if maybe he really _should_ look for somewhere else: but he had already assured the board at the community center of his intentions. He needed to be close to finalize the paperwork and help set things up. 

_And_ Nile was close, and he wanted to see her just as badly as she had hoped to with him. She even changed her own summer plans around as soon as he had called to confirm he was coming home. 

_And_ he did miss the staff, and yes, the pool, which served as a wonderful way to connect to his mother - 

“Nicolò,” Lucio interrupted his thoughts, his voice sounding a little softer now, “ _Stay_ .”  
  
Nicky nodded, unsure what else to say.   
Maybe they’d talk more later.

Or not.  
  
He could feel the man behind him moving, opening the door, and Nicky walked out without anyone saying another word.

He felt confused, but at least the guard wasn’t following him. Nicky continued to walk down the hall, relieved to put some distance between himself and the strange men.  
  
He walked around the corner, heading towards the front door, and pulled out his phone - he _really_ needed to call Nile.

* * *

_Lucio’s Office_

Lucio waited till Nicky had been gone for at least a minute, before he let out a shaky breath. He sank further back into his chair, already bracing himself for the protest, but it didn’t matter - Nicky was here now, his plans had backfired. As soon as the DEA liaison, Derek, stepped forward from the corner, Lucio raised his hand, “I - I know.”  
  
“I don’t think you do,” said the second agent near the door, “we all agreed he was not to be here.”  
  
And Lucio had, willingly, _happily_ paid for the European trip. Nicky would be far away, and safe, and whenever the truth came out, he’d be able to tell him everything. He just needed this summer to get himself out of this mess, and then things could be better. _But now_ \- “I didn’t ask him to come.”

Derek moved closer towards his desk, and sighed. Out of all of them, he was the most sympathetic, and he seemed genuinely hesitant to share what was on his mind. Lucio gave him a look, willing him to say whatever needed to be said, “We can’t offer him the same protection.”

“What?” he immediately implored them to explain, “Why not? What’s the cost - _I’ll pay it_.”

“Because,” the third agent explained, “There’s been no threat to his life. _He’s_ not the one testifying.”  
  
Lucio shook his head, not willing to accept the reasoning, “You will get him the same protection - immediately.”  
  
But the agents didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge his demand, merely glanced over at the liaison. After a moment, the second agent told him to _‘explain it to him’_ , and they left without another word. Lucio waited till the door was closed, then pleaded for Derek to help him, “There’s three more months till I go in front of the grand jury - _please_ , get him the same security.”  
  
Derek shifted in order to lean against the edge of the desk. He didn’t look at Lucio, which did absolutely nothing to help ease his nerves, “It’s not - that simple.” He kept his head down, “Look, even if I start the paperwork for it now, they are not going to fund an extension of security for him - _unless_ , does he know anything? About Merrick?”

Lucio shook his head, “No, never - he doesn’t know anything.”  
  
Derek lifted his gaze towards the painting behind him, “That’s likely for the best then.”  
  
“I -” Lucio moved trembling fingers over the papers in front of him, “I don’t want anything happening to him, because of his association with me.”   
  
Derek raised his hand towards Lucio’s shoulder, and he instantly pulled away. Not because he didn’t appreciate the sentiment, but it wasn’t what he needed, “Help me - to keep him safe.”  
  
The man moved his hand into his lap, before standing upright. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, before tapping on a number. Then he placed the phone on the desk in front of him, and Lucio bent over to read the name, “What is TOG Security?”  
  
He was already moving around the desk, and Lucio was about to point out he had left his phone, but then Derek explained, “I’ll let them explain it to you - but basically, the best security you can hire. I can personally vouch for them.” He elaborated when Lucio gave him an uncertain look, “They’re trained in hand to hand combat, security, evasive maneuvers, weapons, and emergency first aid - the works.”  
  
He was already nearing the door, and Lucio picked up the phone to hand it to him, but the man raised his hands, “No, you’re going to have to call them - and from your own phone. I need to have plausible deniability here.”  
  
Utterly confused, Lucio hesitated until the man confided, “Mr. Di Ge- _Lucio_ , you want protection for Nicky? _This_ is the way to do it. They’re all going to be pissed that you hired them, but for now, you can do what you want with your money. Hire twenty four/seven for all I care - go wild. But call them once I leave the room.”  
  
“Wh-what do I tell them?”  
  
“Tell them who I am, and that I’ll explain when they get here - there’s two agents about an hour from here, they could start tonight,” he was already opening the door, but paused for a moment, “And I’ll - I’ll deal with the rest of them. We’ll coordinate how much information is shared, and get contracts signed, okay?”  
  
Lucio looked up from the phone, “Thank you.”  
  
“It’s gonna be okay,” Derek tipped his head for a moment, then smirked, “I’ll go check in with Copley for a while, so you know you’ll have a good twenty minutes, that man can talk your ear off.”

Lucio gave a weak smile, because it was true - but his mind was obviously elsewhere, and Derek stepped out of the room so he could make the call. 

* * *

_Joe and Booker’s Apartment_

Booker hung up the phone, and tossed it on the leather cushion beside him, “We got a job.”  
  
Joe looked up from the book he had likely stopped reading as soon as the phone had rung, “I sort of figured from the conversation you were having.”  
  
Booker groaned as he stretched against the sofa, leaning against the arm rest for a moment, “Could be a long one - into August.”  
  
That seemed to pique his roommate’s curiosity and he shut the book closed with one hand, “So my last job then?” He gave Booker one of his lopsided grins, before pressing off the chair and heading towards the hallway - likely reaching for his go-bag.  
  
Booker merely lifted his chin into his hand, and teased, “You said that about the last job - and the one before that.”  
  
“Well,” Joe paused, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have pointed that out. But if it bothered him all that much, he chose not to reveal it, looking back at Booker with a smirk, “at least I’ll be around long enough to help train the new guy.”  
  
He began to stand up, and rotated his upper body for one last stretch, “Pretty sure Andy will have something to say about you implying she didn’t _thoroughly_ prepare Lykon for your job.”  
  
“Ha,” Joe retorted, and opened up the hallway closet, “you know what I meant.”  
  
Booker walked around the sofa, making it over to the closet within a few strides. He grabbed his own go bag, keeping his eyes forward, “It would be good for you to check out the new recruit for yourself.” Joe swung his bag over his shoulder, but didn’t say anything else - and Booker mirrored the same move with his own.  
  
They grabbed their wallets, and Booker’s keys, and locked up the apartment. It was an industrial loft condo in the downtown area. Centrally located, and offered a decent list of amenities. But really they only picked it because Booker liked the exposed bricks, and vintage features, while Joe was excited about all the natural lighting and studio space above the living room. They’d been there for two years now, slowly transitioning Joe out of active field work, and closer to consultation desk work, but it had become a bit of a company joke at this point. 

Joe had insisted he planned on semi retiring by the time he was thirty. The man had done his decade long contract, now bound by a measly yearly one in comparison, and had managed to save plenty. But it was his reasoning of traveling back home to Tunisia for _‘a while’_ , that became the brunt of the teasing. Because it was the both reason for wanting to go, and the reason for staying. Every new job became Joe’s _‘last job’_ , and he continued to make excuses why he should stay on for _‘just one more’._

Andy had even asked him if he was _certain_ he’d like her to work on training a new recruit, and he insisted that of course she _should_. But now, after almost a year, Lykon was ready. Ironically, they were planning on flying back just that week to formally meet him - and now, Booker was going to be calling her next to explain the latest. Technically, Andy was the boss, she had to approve all contracts. But with her out of the country for a while, and naturally Quynh went with her, Booker became the next in line to handle the paperwork.

After piling their bags in the backseat of the car, Joe offered to drive, while Booker called and looked over the email Lucio Di Genova had just sent him. It came from an old agent’s secured server, so Booker knew it involved the DEA, but what the heck they’d call on _them_ for he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Lucio said he wasn’t allowed to share more until they spoke _‘in person’_ , but that he wanted a _‘twenty four, seven security’_ detail for his son, and that money was no issue, _‘whatever the cost’_ . They could handle twelve hour shifts, and from what the man was saying, it would mostly be relegated to simply watching the kid at his house for the majority of the summer. And really, things didn’t tend to get more intense than that with their work.   
  
They were used to watching diplomats, and politicians, a musician on a tour, or a celebrity traveling around the world. Always short jobs - a few months here, a few months there. TOG Security offered top of the line bodyguards for the _‘just in case’_ things-go-bad scenarios. But neither Joe, nor Booker, had really seen all that much action. A few years back, they had a run in with a stalker for one of the celebrity clients, but short of some warning signs that they reported to the police - the local law enforcement apprehended the guy. There was one time a client came home early, and found a burglar breaking into her car, but Joe had managed to tackle the guy easily enough (of course, since Joe had actual experience in street fighting from his youth, he lunged forward and had the guy restrained, while Booker was still calculating the best angle of approach . . .)

But _most_ of their work was simply being an assured presence for the client. Though getting to travel so much was a fun bonus.   
  
Then again, because they _were_ used to traveling for their jobs, the idea of watching a rich kid for three months an hour away, because an old agent who was now DEA suggested it, seemed - _different._ _  
_  
When Booker shared what he knew with Andy on the way, she suggested to read over the contract in detail and send her a copy. They could always wait to sign it the next day if need be. Meanwhile, she would book herself, Quynh, and Lykon tickets to fly in sooner. If they did end up taking the job, they could handle the weekend shift.  
  
When Booker got off the phone, he looked over at Joe, who was keeping his focus on the road, “This seems too easy of a last job for you, Joe.”

Joe gave a dry laugh, turning onto the freeway, “Well because it really _is_ my last job, it will turn out to be the worst one.”  
  
Booker, having already had this same argument twice already, leaned his chair back, and bent his arms behind his head, “That’s what you always say.”

* * *

_Di Genova Property_

Nicky had just finished handing out his final gift to the house staff. And though he had suspected they would enjoy them, he felt a little shy when they began to kiss him on the cheeks, and share how they had prayed for him while he was away. He did appreciate the gesture, but he didn’t pray himself, not since his mom, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to explain it to them. So he merely quietly thanked them, and clung to Felicia, so they couldn’t pull him too easily into various hugs.   
  
It wasn’t like he didn’t care for them, or want to, but Nicky didn’t know how to handle direct attention sometimes, and Nile was going to be there any moment. He slowly began to pull back, promising to stop in around dinner, before he made his way to [his room](https://imgur.com/a/2PihedR). 

He had half expected his Dad to have turned it into a storage room with how little they talked lately - but it was still the same. Though a little dusty. Mia, the head staff person, offered to air it out while he was out but Nicky would hear none of it. It was his own fault for not giving them a heads up that he was coming home, so he certainly wasn’t expecting a prepared room ready for him. He didn’t think what he said was all that of a big deal, but Mia kissed him on each cheek, and told him how sweet he was.

Nicky gently placed Felicia down on the ground, and walked over to the corner desk placed against the large wall mirror. Sure enough, remnants of Mia’s lipstick was smeared on his cheeks, and he chuckled at his reflection as he began to wipe it off.  
  
His phone pinged, and surely it was Nile letting him know she had arrived. He gave himself a once over, making sure no lipstick had transferred to his white shirt, but not seeing any he figured he was as ready as he could be. He gave Felicia, who had already curled herself onto the bed, a silent little head bump - she purred exactly once, before closing her eyes, and Nicky closed the door behind him.  
  
He hadn’t thought to warn Nile of the extra security beforehand, but then again, he also hadn’t thought she’d plug in the number to cross through the gate. By the time he had stepped outside, his eyes widened at the guard who was quickly approaching her on the driveway. He hurriedly jogged down the hill, almost tripping over his own feet, and shouting at the guard, “Wa-Wait, she’s my friend!”

Nile, who had already placed her hands on her hips, and was about to tell the man off - looked over towards Nicky and instantly beamed at the sight of him, “Nicky!”   
  
The guard stayed behind when she started walking over towards him, but did talk into his radio, likely telling his comrades about the latest visitor. Nicky had hoped to invite Nile inside, but things were so strange at the moment, he decided it would likely make more sense for them to head out. When she finally reached him, she wrapped her arm around his, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. He in turn rested his cheek against the top of her head, silently greeting her back. Out of everyone in the world, he felt the most comfortable with his childhood friend. 

He had known her since before he could remember, and she had helped him tremendously when his mother had died. And he in turn had helped her when her father died several years later. Their bond was formed both over a lifetime, but also by knowing what it felt like to lose a parent. They embraced each other exactly as they were, encouraging each other to grow of course, but there was a general acceptance by her that Nicky had yet to experience anywhere else in all his travels, and experiences. Nile felt like the most permanent thing in his life. The closest thing to home, and family, that he had.  
  
And though she enjoyed a good conversation, she never pressured him to talk more than he could in the moment. He appreciated it when she didn’t pull back right away, and they stood there in comfortable silence for a little longer. Finally Nicky took a deep breath and quietly confided, “ . . . I have so much to tell you.”  
  
Nile didn’t let go of his arm, but looked up at him, a little concerned, “Here, or somewhere else?”  
  
“Somewhere else, please.”  
  
Nile merely nodded, and they walked arm in arm down the driveway.   
Both ignored the guard who asked where they were going, and simply made their way to the car.

Nicky could hear him curse under his breath, and head towards the house, but what were they really going to do about it? He was twenty four years old now, and if he wanted to go get coffee with his best friend, then he was going to. 

* * *

_Booker’s Car_

Joe had decided to let Booker doze off for the car ride. 

Even though he didn’t mind the ‘last job’ jokes _per se_ , he really did understand that now that Lykon was ready to take over, this _really_ was likely the last time they’d be spending this much time together. They were best friends, and had worked together for over a decade now. He was certain they’d continue that friendship even when Booker went on to take more jobs, while Joe remained behind. But it would be _different_. 

Technically he could stick around their apartment for a little while if he wanted to. 

But really the condo was meant for field agents, not the consultation and training department he’d be moving onto. He could travel still if he wanted. Training new recruits, or doing consultations virtually as he coordinated jobs. And really, the idea of not constantly shifting months at a time _did_ sound appealing.

Plus, he _had_ been assuring his mother he’d make a trip back home for over a decade now, and it _was_ time, but what he planned on doing _after_ that, he didn’t know yet.   
  
Because the truth, just underneath the surface, that no one spoke of out loud . . .

Was that he wasn’t ready to go home.

He wasn’t sure if he would ever be.

Booker’s phone suddenly rang through the otherwise quiet car, and he jerked awake as he fumbled his hand into his pocket. Joe wondered if it was maybe Andy with an update about their plane tickets, but instead Booker’s brow furrowed as he tried to calm down whoever was on the other line, “Mr. Di - Mr. Di Genova, _yes_ , I - I understand.”  
  
Joe looked over at him, mindful of the road, and Booker shot him a signal that he might as well pull over, “ _Yes_ , sir - but technically we haven’t signed the contract yet -”

Once parked on the edge of the overpass, Joe mouthed a silent question, and Booker rolled his eyes as he tried to explain more, before giving an exasperated sigh, “Yes, _okay_. We will not engage. And meet you immediately afterwards.” He paused for a moment, and then pointed out they would need access to his son’s cellphone - Joe’s eyes widened in confusion. 

Why they would need to trace this kid already, he couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

Had the kid run away? Was he taken?  
  
When Booker hung up, Joe leaned closer, genuinely worried, “What’s going on?”  
  
“Eh the brat walked off with his friend for some coffee chat, and we get to make sure he drinks it down okay.”  
  
Joe froze - trying to process why a kid would need coffee, and when Booker looked over him, he blinked once, before catching on to Joe’s confusion, “Oh, it’s not a _kid_ -kid - the guy’s like in his early 20s - I got his file right here.”  
  
Booker began to scroll through his phone for the encrypted email, and Joe gave a wry sort of laugh, “I was literally imaging babysitting an eight year old all summer.”  
  
“Well _that_ would have been a change of pace,” Booker muttered, a ping alerting him to the new message before he had a chance to pull up the client’s file. He swiped at the screen, and plugged in the number to trace through their database. Since the man was paying for the phone, he simply signed a release, and within moments they knew exactly where his son was. Booker fed the address into the GPS and Joe pulled back onto the road.

“Oh, before I forget - just in case we make contact with the client - his son doesn’t know the specifics.”

Joe turned slightly to take the next exit, “Well that will be easy for me to keep from the guy, since I don’t know the specifics either.”  
  
Booker rolled his eyes again, muttering _‘smart ass’_ before explaining that his Dad’s involvement with the DEA needed to be kept a secret for now. Joe waited till they were stopped at a red light, before wondering out loud, “So, what exactly are we supposed to say when the guy asks why we’re around twenty four seven?”  
  
He shrugged, equally unsure, but countered that likely the DEA liaison would have that answer. For now, they just needed to make sure the guy got to enjoy his coffee, and make it back to his house in one piece. After that, they’d hopefully know more.  
  
Joe didn’t love the idea of keeping secrets.

He knew the painful cost of what that could do.

But he didn’t exactly have a choice. 

When the light turned green, he made a left turn heading to the coffee shop the GPS was leading them to. It was on the outskirts of the city, in a small suburban neighborhood. A little place that only had four tables flanked under a pergola. The cell phone signal had said they should have been there already, but it wasn’t always the most accurate reading. There was a mile circumference the son could be in, and Joe asked if there were any other coffee shops in the area. 

“No, doesn’t look like it - they likely parked the car, and are just walking over,” Booker was going through his email inbox again, and had pulled up the file attachments he was sent for the son, “Okay, here - here’s a copy of his license - so we know who to look for. His name is - Nicolò Di Genova -”  
  
He leaned closer, trying to show Joe, but just as he was looking down at the screen, Booker tapped him on the arm, “Oh _hey_ , there he is, walking across the street.”  
  
Joe was glad they had parked several cars back, so hopefully they wouldn’t be spotted, but when he raised his head, he was utterly unprepared for the vision approaching the shop. Nicolò Di Genova, who was walking with a young woman, looked like one of those classical figures he had studied in his art history classes. His hair was a dark golden brown, seemingly sun kissed, and the way it was cut, easily showed off the two silver earrings that reflected against the afternoon sun. He had light facial hair, just above his pink lips, and framing the edge of his sharp jawline. But it was his eyes that made Joe grip the steering wheel harder. He could tell even from afar, that they were deep set, and bright. He had light shadows underneath them, like maybe he needed a good night’s sleep, and Joe wondered if he should offer to take the night shift just to make sure the guy got it . . .  
  
However his mouth literally went dry when he walked past the cars and Joe got a _full_ view of his _entire_ body. Nicolò was wearing a plain shirt with its rolled up sleeves, and it showed off his broad shoulders, and small waist. When he stepped onto the curb with his low top converse sneakers, the jeans tightened around his round ass and Joe gulped - audibly. 

Loud enough for Booker to hear.

He cautiously glanced over at him, and was greeted with a teasing smirk, “ _Oh_?”

Joe tried not to be obvious, would have _loved_ to deny it, but he took a moment too long to come up with a reply, and Booker’s whole face turned a shade of pink as he tried to stifle his laugh.

Joe groaned in response.

* * *

_Coffee Shop_

Nicky and Nile had just come out of the small shop, already slurping down their iced coffees, and settling into a shaded spot in the corner. They were the only customers, and most of the street was surprisingly quiet for a summer afternoon. But at least Nicky didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing him stammering through his already stressful day. Nile, patient as always, waited for him to share. After breathing through the tightness in his chest, he slowly raised his eyes to hers, “So -”  
  
His mouth immediately clamped shut, his fingers a little shaky against the plastic cup - he felt bad for a moment, like maybe he shouldn't share. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe it would be too overwhelming -  
  
“So?”  
  
He tried again, pushing around the anxiety, and the negative thoughts. Nile had shown over and over again that no matter what - she was open to hearing what he had to say. He could trust her. He could be vulnerable with her, “I - was originally supposed to go to Europe this summer.”  
  
“Oh?” she dipped the straw through the whipped cream, before taking a quick sip, “Didn’t feel like repeating Bang Tour 2015?”  
  
“Ha _ha_ ,” Nicky jostled his feet playfully against hers. She dropped her hand across the table, and waited for him to place his in her palm. It helped, “I mean not only _that_ \- but I didn’t want to go because of what I’m trying to do at the community center. They think the new program could be up and running next month already.”  
  
Nile gave him a broad smile, “Nicky, that’s great news!” 

Her excitement was contagious and he squeezed her hand as he leaned in closer over the table, “And they said, that afterwards, I can even help run it if I would like - like an actual, _real_ job. Not just an internship, or a volunteering thing, but a _job_.”  
  
She pulled her hand back, trying to cover her laugh. When Nicky stared at her in confusion, she waved them both in front of her, trying to talk around the laughter, “I’m - I’m sorry, you’re just so cute -.” Nile swiped at the tear threatening to spill out from the corner of her eye, “No one our age gets this excited about a job.”  
  
Nicky leaned back against the metal chair, feeling the need to chew on the plastic straw as he mumbled around it, “Well _excuse_ me for being excited about my very first paid job -”  
  
She let the laugh die down, before gently tapping her foot against his - her silent way of asking him for his attention. He slowly raised his eyes to her, and was relieved to see her quiet support, “That _is_ something to celebrate, and I’m sorry I dampened it.”  
  
“You - you didn’t,” he shook his head, because she didn’t _dampen_ his joy, if anything, he was glad to have _someone_ to share it with. Which brought him to the more important point he still needed to explain, “I - I haven’t told my Dad.”  
  
Nile tipped her head a little, taking another sip of the coffee, “Which part?”  
  
He braced himself for her reaction, his shoulders already tightening, “Any of it.”  
  
“Nicky!” she exclaimed, “Are you serious?”  
  
Why she would think he would lie about _that_ , he had no idea. He shrugged his tense shoulders, knowing she would want him to elaborate, and he tried, “He hasn’t really asked me all that much about culinary school - or what I’m hoping to do after - and I guess -” . . . _I thought he wouldn't care. That if I shared with him how excited I was for this project, he’d only tell me how disappointed he was._

He felt his eyes get a little heavier, and he looked down at the melting cream frothing against the edge of the cup. His mouth felt tight, and he was afraid to speak again - afraid that the words might tumble out.   
  
Nile tapped her foot against his again, but he shook his head _‘no’_ \- he wasn’t ready to look at her just yet. As patient, and understanding as she was, his relationship with his father was something that went beyond her. She tried a different angle, clearing her throat, and leaning in close, “My mom is at her sister's for a few weeks - want to crash at my house for a little while?"

Nicky appreciated the gesture, managed to give her a weak smile of _‘thanks’_ , but still - there was more to say, “I think I need to stay close. There’s - I don’t know why, but he’s got a lot of extra security right now, and I - “ He lifted his eyes to her, and she leaned a cheek against her palm, showing him he had her undivided attention, “I think there’s something going on.”  
  
She raised her head, straightening in the chair, “Like, what?”  
  
He wasn’t sure, scratching at the edge of the cup with a chewed on fingernail, “I don’t - don’t really know.”  
  
Nile likely could tell he was needing a break. They could head back, and maybe watch a movie in his bed. He could snuggle with Felicia, and Nile and him could have dinner together. He would love to show off some new things he had learned lately. Without saying anything, she merely extended her hand again, and he placed it in hers. She gave it two quick squeezes, their silent signal to say it was _‘time to go’_ \- that the moment was too overwhelming, and they needed help to get out of it. Nicky squeezed her hand back twice, confirmation of his agreement, before she pulled her hand back and reached for his coffee, “Come on, if we hurry, we can refreeze these and you can still get your caffeine fix while we snuggle on your bed.”  
  
Nicky glanced at her for a moment - utterly grateful for her - and quietly rose from his chair.   
She gently bumped her elbow against his lower arm, and smiled up at him before stepping down the curb between the two parked cars. He was right behind her, already pondering which Disney movie to pick when he heard someone honk several feet away.  
  
It sounded like it came from his left side, and he glanced at the cars parked along the street, but it was a woman shouting from _across_ the street that alerted Nicky to the danger heading their way. He looked ahead of him, and saw Nile already crossing, seemingly oblivious, or simply frozen in place. And just past her, to their right, a speeding car swerving on the road. He didn’t really think it through - just ran around her, and pushed her between the two cars he had been standing between.  
  
The coffees she had been holding splattered onto the ground, and she stumbled backwards, but whether she fell or not he wasn’t sure - he heard metal scraping across metal, and looked up to see the car slamming into one of the parked cars just a few feet away. It was quickly approaching, and he closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

“ _Nicky_!”

* * *

  


Booker had _just_ stopped laughing.

But once he saw the way Nicolò and his friend interacted, reaching for each other several times, he began to chuckle, and teased, “Looks like you got some competition, Joe.”  
  
Joe glanced out the window, and grumbled his response, “Booker, be serious.”

“Oh I _am_ serious,” he immediately countered, “and I hope _they_ aren’t.”  
  
He looked over at his friend, and luckily Booker relented when he saw his banter wasn’t having the desired effect. He raised his hands in silent defeat, and resumed his watch, while Joe tried to refocus on anything besides Nicolò.   
  
Not even a minute past, before Booker sighed loudly, “It’s just - you’re allowed to have some fun Joe.”  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, really not wanting to discuss his ideas of fun with Booker of all people, “It’s unprofessional - he’s our client.”  
  
“And it’s your last job.”  
  
 _One-two-punch, thanks_ . Joe leaned his head back against the headrest, “Not really the way I imagined ending my career.”  
  
Booker suddenly sounded far more serious, “It’s not _ending_ , Joe. Just like, _shifting_ priorities.”

Really, Joe knew that, _but still_ \- he didn’t want to talk about it right now. Likely ever. 

He tried not to stare at the way Nicolo wiggled in his seat, it was starting to give him all _sorts_ of distracting thoughts, and Joe refocused his gaze to the other side of the street. 

“Mm, looks like they’re done, go start the car, and we’ll tag them.”  
  
Booker was already reaching for his seat belt, when Joe spotted the car racing over the hill just down the road. It had run through a red light, and a car opposite of it had to swerve to avoid being hit. Worse, it seemed to be picking up speed - and heading straight towards them. He saw the woman walking ahead of Nicolò, seemingly not aware of the danger, and he hurriedly slammed his hand against the center of the wheel. The horn was loud enough to make Nicolò look up, and straight at their parked car, but he hadn’t seemed to realize it was them - his eyes cautiously scanning several cars.  
  
Booker who flung the seat belt back, hurriedly reached for the handle of the door, “ _Mon Dieu_ -”  
  
Joe was faster though, his car door already swinging open as he ran towards them. 

They had caught the attention of a woman walking her small dog across the street, and she screamed, trying to warn Nicolò’s friend. Joe was at least twenty feet away, closing in, but still far enough back that he _knew_ it would be cutting close - the car was now swerving in a zig zag pattern.  
  
Nicolò had somehow managed to push her back, but had inadvertently switched places with her, and was now the one in very real danger of being hit by the car. The vehicle slammed against some of the parked cars, and Joe willed his body to go faster, desperate to reach him - he was so close.  
  
“ _Nicky_!”

The vehicle swerved again, barely avoiding them, while Joe slammed against Nicolò’s side. He had wrapped his arms around his torso, the force of the impact lifting them off the ground. Joe tried aiming for the hood of the parked car beside him, twisting his body so hopefully his arms would catch the brunt of the fall. At the last moment - when he realized Nicolò would be rolled underneath him - he raised his hand to the back of his head, hoping to prevent any serious injury to it. His knuckles would be sore and bruised the next day, but at least the man would be alive.

It had only taken seconds, the crisis averted, but Joe froze for a moment - 

because Nicolò was now _literally_ pinned underneath him, _and_ cradled in his arms.

 _Fuck._

* * *

Nicky blinked his eyes open, genuinely having thought for a moment that the car _had_ hit him. 

The force of whoever was now on top of him had flung him so hard that they slammed against the hood of a parked car, and he let out a little grunt at the weight bearing down on him.   
  
The man slowly began to pull back, his hand slinking out from behind his head, while his arm uncurled from his side. Nicky instantly cooled at the lack of connection, missing the warmth even on the hot summer day. But it wasn’t until the man lifted his face to his, that he was able to see him clearly. And what a stunning sight he was.  
  
His hair was cut shorter than his; darker, and thicker, but little wisps of curls shined under the sunlight just passed his head. He had a full beard, cropped close to his face, and thanks to them being almost nose to nose, could spot small freckles peeking out just above the hairline. His lips were much softer looking than Nicky’s chapped ones that he tended to nervously chew on. But it was the eyes staring down at him, that kept Nicky frozen in place. So dark, they almost looked black.   
  
“Nicky - oh my God!”  
  
Nile’s voice sounded strained, as she hurriedly rushed towards him, and the man pulled away all together, allowing Nicky to finally sit up properly. She instantly pulled him close, wrapping unsteady arms around his neck, and whimpered against his neck, “Are - are you okay?!”

Nicky felt horrible for thinking it, he did _want_ to comfort her, but he also wished the other man was holding him again, “I - yes, I’m okay.”  
  
He cupped the back of her neck for a moment, his fingers lacing through her braids, as he dipped his face into the crook of her shoulder, “Are _you_ alright?”  
  
Nile let out a wet chuckle, squeezing him a little tighter, “Yeah, thanks to you!”  
She leaned back, not quite letting him go just yet, and wiped the tears away that had fallen down her cheeks, “You could have _died_ Nicky.”

He would love to tease her, and call her dramatic, but he couldn’t deny how close that car came to hitting him and - 

The other guy, who had ended up saving _him_. 

“I’m just glad this guy was around,” Nicky slowly looked past Nile, and up at the stranger standing behind her. Because of his own seated position he had to tilt his head back a little to make eye contact, but it was worth it to watch the way they gleamed down at him, “Thank you by the way.”

The man shrugged, as if somehow he hadn’t just saved his life, “Just the right place, right time.”  
  
A second man stepped close, suggesting they move away from the parked cars, and closer to the coffee shop tables. The stranger gave the blonde one a look, but seemed to agree in the end when he followed behind him anyways. It was only then, when he stepped away from Nile’s visual block, that Nicky was able to _see_ the body that he had only _felt_ before.  
  
The man was built: he wore a plain black shirt but it stretched tightly across a muscular upper back and defined shoulders. His arms looked strong, but had felt smooth against Nicky’s skin. His pants were a slightly wider cut than Nicky’s, and unlike his that he rolled just above his ankles, this man’s were tucked into thick, black boots. But even so, he could tell that his legs were lean, and toned. 

Everything about him radiated strength. 

And Nicky found himself easily walking behind him - 

With Nile right at his heels.  
  
She insisted on thanking them properly - seemed that the blonde had pulled her back from rushing towards Nicky at the last moment - and asked for their names.   
  
The blonde rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking a little unsure, before finally answering under Nile’s insistent stare, “Booker.”  
  
Both her, _and_ Nicky, looked at the other man, who glanced over at Booker first, before answering, “Joe.”

 _Joe_ , Nicky rolled the name around in his head for a moment, “Thank you, Joe - I’m Nicky by the way.”

When he smiled up at him, Joe looked like he was actually appreciating the view, and it emboldened Nicky to offer to buy him a coffee, “ - For the whole saving my life thing.”  
  
He could feel Nile squeezing his arm near his bent elbow, but he flexed his hand over hers, silently assuring her he felt comfortable. She sometimes worried he was too nice, easily offering things before really thinking it through. And maybe he was rushing here, too. But he simply wanted to stare at the nice cup-of-Joe standing in front of him for a little while longer.  
  
He gave him a small smile, and Nicky thought the slight curve to his lips looked dazzling. He wished Joe smiled fully, just to see if it radiated the same kind of warmth he suspected it would. But unfortunately he shoved his hands in pockets, and the smile faded all together, “Sorry, I’m on the job, and have to get back to it.”

Nicky had sworn off casual a while ago (well, like a few weeks ago). 

But this didn’t feel like one of those things anyway.

He wanted to meet up with Joe again, and if he was potentially sticking around at the community center for the foreseeable future, then maybe it would be nice to get to know someone nearby, “At least let me give you my number then - and buy you a cup of coffee some other time?”  
  
Joe’s widened for a moment, but he agreed nonetheless, and Nicky asked for his cellphone so he could key in his contact info.   
  
“I left my phone in the car - just a moment - “  
  
Nicky was undeterred, and maybe a little flirtatious. But he saw an easy opportunity to touch his skin, and simply placed his hand on Joe’s wrist, instantly stopping him. His eyes traveled down to Nicky’s fingers, before slowly looking into his. He didn’t say anything though, and Nicky gave a sly smirk, “Got a pen?”

It was actually Nile who managed to produce one from her small purse, and without even breaking eye contact, slipped it into Nicky’s free hand. He slowly raised Joe’s wrist between them, gently turning his hand palm up, and glided his hand underneath to support it. He did look down to write his name and number, but didn’t exactly hurry things along. Not when he saw the way Joe’s pulse seemed to be beating fast underneath the thin skin of his inner wrist.  
  
Once done, he slowly pulled back, making sure his fingers trailed along Joe’s, before clicking the end of the pen, “There - text me tonight and let me know a good time.”  
  
He didn’t exactly wait for Joe to nod, or say anything really, simply turned on his heel - reached for Nile and walked towards her parked car across the street. This time, making absolutely sure both ways were clear first.

And yes, he did give his hips a little extra wiggle as he walked, hoping it would only encourage Joe to reach out sooner, rather than later. 

* * *

Joe watched Nicky - _he said, Nicky, not Nicolò_ \- walk across the street.

That firm, round ass taunting him, _daring_ him to follow . . .  
  
His hand still felt tingly from where Nicky held it, giving him his number, and of course making Joe feel _horrible for already having it_. But how exactly could he explain any of this to the man? 

That gorgeous man. 

That ridiculously, gorgeous, _hot_ man.

When Nicky rounded Nile’s car, surely a friend - and not a girlfriend like he had worried about ( _wait, was I worried about that?_ ) - Joe felt the weight of Booker’s firm hand grip his shoulder. His friend was looking in the same direction he was, at the way Nicky gave Joe one last glance and a casual smile, before he climbed into the passenger side.   
  
Booker’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “You’re _fucked._ ”

Joe closed his eyes, and he groaned - again.

They already had Nicky’s home address, were supposed to be meeting his father as soon as possible, and here he was - with Nicky’s _handwriting_ on the palm of his hand. He _was_ fucked. _So fucked._  
  
“Come on, I’ll drive,” Booker squeezed his shoulder, before pulling his hand away. 

Joe followed absentmindedly, happily allowing his friend behind the wheel while he tried to contemplate as to how exactly he was going to deal with _months_ of watching Nicky. Especially when he wanted to do a whole lot more than _that_ . He grumbled to himself: _be professional_ . He could do this. He had to -  
  
“ _Merde_ .”  
  
Joe instantly looked up at Booker, who was staring at his screen, “What is it?”

“I plugged in the license plate number of that car,” Booker scrolled a little, as if he was trying to reread whatever results had popped up. He turned his phone towards Joe, looking worried, “It says _‘restricted’_ .”  
  
TOG Security had a fairly wide reach. Access to both national and international databases of records. But of course, there was only so much a private company could do against federal security. When _‘restricted’_ popped up, it meant that the government was involved. _Yet -_ “That doesn’t make sense.”  
  
Booker leaned back against the front seat, placing his phone in the center console, “Unless - his Dad does have _something_ going on with the DEA.”  
  
Joe shook his head, “That makes even _less_ sense - if his Dad is working _with_ the DEA, then why would a government car be trying to take out Nicky?”  
  
“ _So_ ,” Booker quipped, “We think there’s a _secondary_ government agency agent, who just _happened_ to be in his government issued vehicle - who almost _ran_ over the guy we are being hired to protect?”  
  
He wanted to call him a _‘smart ass’_ , but dammit he was right. 

There were too many coincidences, and Joe looked over to Booker, “We need to get to Nicky.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

* * *

  
  
  


**NOTES:** We hope you liked the first chapter!! :)  
Chapter Two AND Three will be going live in one week, back to back (but you'll see why)

  
If interested, you can find me on [tumblr](http://petersock.tumblr.com), and as for most writers, kudos and comments feed me <3  
(though please know that I understand not everyone has the spoons for it! It's okay, we appreciate the reads all the same :)  
Also, international readers - don't hesitate to leave a non English comment - I know reading a different language, vs writing it, can give a headache! And I'm happy to use Google translate - so long you don't mind me butchering your mother tongue in replies haha). 


	2. Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Booker arrive at the Di Genova property and learn more about Lucio's involvement with the DEA.  
> But not everything's as it seems. 
> 
> We also get to see a bit more of Nicky's friendship with Nile.  
> And learn one more piece about Nicky's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone - first of all _wow_ thank you all so much for such an amazing response to our first chapter!! - Luz Clarita and I are _so_ floored by the kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions already and we really, really appreciate the love. We send it all right back, and hope you enjoy TWO chapters going live back to back (almost 20k words of goodness for ya!).
> 
> That being said, you'll see why I almost titled Chapter Two the "Information Interlude" ;) It's got great background info, and some insight into various character backgrounds - but we know you'll be itching to see how JoexNicky handle the first week around each other . . . so Chapter Three will cover the entire week!! 
> 
> No trigger warnings for this chapter (yay!)

* * *

**_“Am I walking toward something I should be running from?” - Shirley Jackson_ **

* * *

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Staff Parking Garage _

After watching Nile and Nicky pull up into the driveway, Booker followed the instructions sent to him and drove around the corner for the staff parking garage at the lower end of the hill. Derek, the DEA liaison, was already waiting for them at the gate and walked alongside the car as they parked theirs within the structure. Once Joe and Booker stepped out, and exchanged basic pleasantries, Derek informed them he had wanted to talk with them first before bringing them inside.

. . . Which was actually something they preferred since they needed to tell the former TOG agent what had happened with the car that almost hit Nicky.   
  
“I really appreciate you guys being here, because I have some concerns about the investigation.”

That of course peeked Joe and Booker’s curiosity, but it was Joe who asked him to elaborate.  


“Well we started with five witnesses who agreed to flip evidence in order to avoid RICO charges, but now we’re down to two - Lucio, and his law partner, Copley.”    
  
Booker had asked if the other three were threatened and decided  _ ‘to go to jail instead, or-?’ _ , and when Derek shook his head implying they were dead, he quietly cursed underneath his breath in French.   


Joe wanted to know if there were any other concerns with the investigation, and Derek shared that it seemed for every step they made, they had to take three steps back, “Like we would land an evidence hearing, and then mysteriously a key piece would go missing just before. Or a judge would have to recuse himself right before a pre trial. Even the grand jury testimony has been rescheduled four times already.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed, “Now it’s scheduled for twelve weeks from now, and I’m hoping it actually sticks.” The agent seemed downright tired when he looked over at them, “I’ve been working on cases like this for over a decade, and this particular one for close to two years, but I have never stumbled over  _ so  _ many roadblocks in one investigation.” Derek, who was technically a U.S. Marshall, but coordinated with the DEA on these cases, seemed downright sullen, even a little frustrated that the fellow agents assigned to the case didn't seem as focused with the safety of the remaining witnesses,  “They’re main objective is to bring Merrick down - my main objective is to keep Lucio, and Copley, alive.”  


There was an uneasy pause between the three of them. Derek had made an easy transition from TOG Security to being a Marshall, keeping someone safe was at the root of both of those jobs, and he was usually able to stay in the country at least. But to Joe, Derek's general frustration with his government job, only assured him that he was making the right choice by settling for a TOG desk job soon.  


Yet it ended up being Booker who hesitantly shared what had happened at the coffee shop. Derek had already looked concerned, but when Joe explained about the restricted car, he seemed downright unsteady - leaning against the stone wall nearby. He wondered out loud: if this  _ was _ a warning, somehow to intimidate Lucio from testifying in twelve weeks, then _ how  _ would they have coordinated it so quickly, “Nicky literally arrived an hour ago, no one knew he was coming - not even Lucio.”

Joe didn’t like the implication, “Either he was already being followed before he arrived - or you got a mole here who informed someone.”   
  
Derek glanced at Booker, who nodded in full agreement, “I fear it’s the second. It must have been a message to intimidate Lucio before his meeting with Merrick.”

Joe’s eyes widened a little, “You are having him meet the man he’s testifying against?”   


Derek explained that as far as anyone knew, Merrick did not suspect Lucio or Copley’s involvement in the investigation. Though he normally did not make trips to America, he was scheduled to arrive in a month. They had plans to surround wherever they would meet with agents, and wiretaps, the hope being that Merrick would even say something incriminating. The agency  _ desperately _ needed this meeting to go smoothly, “And besides, Lucio will be safe - I’ll make sure of it.”

Joe had absentmindedly been rubbing his thumb over Nicky’s handwriting in his palm, still mulling over all the reasons why maybe he  _ shouldn’t  _ be hired for this job. On one hand, if he wasn’t then it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest to accept Nicky’s offer of buying him a drink (though Joe drank neither alcohol, nor coffee,  _ but surely there were other options _ ). On the  _ other _ hand, there was a very real presence of danger lurking around Nicky and who better to keep an eye on him? Between Derek’s concerns of a double agent - and now the car incident, it was becoming apparent they needed to stick around.

Booker stepped a little closer to his old comrade, and quietly asked, “Are you sure you don’t want Lucio to know about the attempt?” 

Derek shook his head, concerned that maybe he wouldn’t testify if he knew - and they were simply  _ ‘too close to the trial to risk it’ _ . He promised to look into the car if Booker gave him the license plate, maybe he’d be able to figure out who it belonged to. It was a compromise Booker agreed to, but Joe didn’t like it.    
  
He knew the costs of secrets, and worried that if Nicky didn’t realize the danger he was in, he could easily argue against their presence in his life. Why would he agree to a security detail if everyone kept assuring him he was safe?

Joe pressed his thumb against his palm so tightly it hurt, and he flexed his hand before shoving it in his pocket, “What do we say to Lucio then - or to Nicky, about why we’re here?”   
  
Derek pressed off the wall, suggesting they keep his theory of a double agent to themselves for now, after all he didn’t have any proof. He had managed to get them enough clearance with the other agents to let the TOG work  _ alongside _ them on the property, but was instructed to remind them to  _ ‘not interfere’ _ with their investigation. He hesitated to even pass the message along, but Booker and Joe understood. Besides, their client was Nicky, that would be their singular focus, “As for what we’re saying to Nicky, let’s meet Lucio and see what he thinks?”

What other option did they have?

Reluctantly, Joe followed behind Derek and Booker who continued to chat, discussing things they had been up to while they made their way through the staff wing. Joe glanced around the large, open, white spaces, taking in the modern home, but his thoughts were preoccupied about the very real threats around Nicky. It was already going to be a struggle to keep things professional, he’d manage, but it would be hard - and now he was going to have to lie about what his Dad was up to as well?    
  
Every now and then, Derek pointed out various doors - the on site bedroom spaces for the staff where Booker and him would share a room during the week, and the common area that had a living room and a kitchen for them to use as well - but Joe could care less. His mind was distracted by the fact that as large as this mansion was, Nicky was within it. So close that maybe they would run into each other at any moment. 

When they passed into the main house, Joe was almost half expecting Nicky to be standing there - or maybe he had just hoped he’d be. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing at that moment.   
  


* * *

_ Nicky’s Bedroom _

“I am still shaking, look at this.”   
  
Nicky looked down at Nile’s hands, at the slight tremor to her fingers, before wrapping his own hands around them for a moment, “It was pretty insane -”

Nile and Nicky were sitting shoulder to shoulder on his bed, and she easily leaned back to give him a sly grin, “ _ Not  _ as insane as you still managing to get your wits together enough to actually  _ flirt _ two seconds after almost being run over.”    
  
Nicky tucked his chin close to his chest, slowly pulling his hands away from Nile’s and into his lap, “To be honest, I should have been a mess I know -” Joe’s warm grin flashed inside of his mind, and a soft smile tugged at his own lips, “but, I guess - “   
  
“He was too hot to resist?” Nile dipped her head slightly forward, making absolutely sure Nicky could see her eyebrow wiggle.   
  
He drew his knees close to his chest, hands clasped between his legs, “He did look  _ amazing _ didn’t he-” But he paused himself before getting too carried away. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the event itself - maybe he was reading too much into it. Joe was  _ very _ good looking, but it wasn’t  _ just _ that, to Nicky he also felt . . .  _ well, safe _ . It had to be the way they met. And it was likely clouding things in his mind. He couldn't remember the last time someone had such an immediate effect on him.   
  
He must have paused too long, because when Nile spoke again, she did it quietly - as if she was potentially interrupting his thoughts, and hoping not to startle him, “You think he’ll call?”   
  
Nicky leaned his head back against the headboard, eyes shifting over to the large window beside them, “I hope so, he did  _ seem _ interested.”   
  
“Oh yeah -  _ for sure _ ,” he could hear the teasing tone in her voice, and turned to look down at her, “Might be yet another reason for you to stick around in the area - that, and the whole job thing.”   
  
“Is it crazy I kind of considered the same thing?”   
  
“Not at all,” Nile rested her cheek on his shoulder, snuggling against his side, “and I ship anything that gets you to stick around, I’ve missed you tremendously.”   
  
Nicky felt a pang of guilt. Nile had worked so hard on her own goals, knowing she wanted to be a police officer since she was a child (unlike Nicky who had sort of floated for most of his life, unsure  _ what _ he wanted). But Nile graduated with honors from her high school, and then immediately went on to earn a master’s degree in law enforcement with a minor in criminology. She had only graduated the year before, and her mom suggested she earned one year “off” to relax before she was set to do the police academy training in the summer. And yet when Nicky shared he was coming home for the summer she pushed that back to the fall. He had tried explaining that she didn’t have to, but she insisted . . . “I’m sorry that you had change your plans around - “   
  
“The academy will still be there in the fall -,” she shrugged it off, before sitting up a little straighter, “besides, God forbid, but if you decide to do something different after all, this might be the only chance we get to spend a couple of months together.” She looked back at him from over her shoulder, happy to reassure him, “I definitely do not regret it.”

As guilty as he felt, the truth was, that if it weren’t for Nile sticking around - he’d likely be spending most of his summer in his room, or the pool. He could only hope that one day he could do something equally amazing for her, too. Trying not to sound emotional about it, he shifted his gaze towards his feet, “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”   
  
“You, too,” Nile bumped her shoulder with his, before changing the subject, “Now tell me who I need to coordinate your grad party with - Lucio, or Mia?”   
  
“Oh -” Nicky appreciated her efforts to steer the conversation away from his guilt, but this discussion felt just as uneasy. He lowered his eyes, trying not to sound sad about it, “well, Dad hasn’t mentioned one.”   
  
“Maybe it’s a surprise party?” Nile tried to reassure him, but he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. Like she already knew that his Dad wasn’t planning anything.

“I - I doubt it. He wasn’t exactly excited to see me ba-,” he sort of let the last word drop, and hoped she wouldn’t press for details.   
  
Nile merely shrugged her shoulders, not deterred, “Then I’ll just throw you one instead.”   
  
“Oh please don’t Nile - I, I really don’t want one.”   
  
“What? Why on Earth not?” she easily shifted, now facing him outright and sitting on her knees, “You graduated college Nicky, that deserves to be celebrated!”   
  
Nicky could feel his back pressing further into the headboard, as if he could slink away. The thought of any sort of party made him feel downright lightheaded, “I - I just want to focus on setting up the program this summer . . .”   
  
“And maybe enjoy a nice  _ cup-of-Joe _ while you’re at it?”   
  
He looked up at her, seeing her broad smile, but he wasn’t so sure if he should allow himself to feel the same sort of excitement, “ _ If _ he calls - “   
  
“He will,” Nile answered assuredly, and Nicky really had no idea how she could be so confident about that.

He ran his fingers along the longer strands of his hair near the top of his head, “How do you know?”   
  
Nile rolled her eyes, “Because I have eyes and saw the way he looked at you.”   
  
Nicky hoped she was right. He really wanted to get to know Joe better, and he was certain he was at least  _ sort of _ interested. Though that didn’t always necessarily mean anything. Nicky only ever did casual encounters anyways, and he had sworn to himself he wanted to stay focused on his goals for the summer, maybe Joe calling him wouldn’t be the best idea after all . . . that body of his seemed like it could distract Nicky from just about everything else in his life. His mind was starting to run in circles - one end hoping Joe would call, and on the other, hoping he wouldn’t. It was likely just his anxiety finally processing some of the adrenaline and stress of the last hour and a half, and he closed his eyes for a moment to help ground himself.   
  
“Hey,” Nile’s soft voice sounded nearby, as her warm hand rested on his forearm, “Want me to start the movie?”   
  
Nicky slowly opened his eyes, offering a weak smile, more for his own nerves than for her. He nodded, and she moved to grab the remote from the night stand. She picked  _ Aladdin _ , and snuggled against his arm as soon as the credits started rolling. She would have to leave soon, but had promised to swing back by in a few days. Nicky tried to think of something special he could do for her for how supportive she had been today for him, but decided to first try to relax as best as he could. To merely enjoy her company while he still had it.    
  
. . . And telling himself  _ not  _ to check his phone for a text from Joe until after she left.

* * *

_ Lucio’s Office _

Derek, Joe and Booker passed three agents who barely managed to nod over at them. Joe figured they weren’t all too pleased to have more people in the middle of their case, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, he doubted their paths would cross all that much. From what little Derek explained beforehand, Nicky and Lucio didn’t exactly spend all that much time together. And Nicky likely wouldn’t be leaving the house all that often over the summer. If it weren’t for the fact that he could still remember how nice Nicky felt pressed underneath him, Joe might even suggest this job could be easy -    
  
A guy in a suit opened the door to the office, and the man he assumed to be Nicky’s father stood up from behind the desk, “Hello, thank you for coming so quickly.”    
  
Derek moved around the desk, close to Lucio, while Joe and Booker took the two seats arranged in front of it. They had barely sat down in their chairs, when Lucio got straight to the point, “Derek has shared with me your qualifications, and I am quite impressed, I would love to arrange a formal contract on Nicolò’s behalf.”   
  
_ Nicolò _ \- Joe rolled the name around his mind for a moment, while Booker went on to explain that Andy signed off on all contracts. He had detected a slight accent in Nicky’s voice, and an even thicker one in Lucio’s. But he hadn’t exactly had a chance to process their heritage earlier when two seconds after being told his full name, he saw the man cross the street. Not only did Nicky  _ look _ stunning, he  _ sounded _ nice, too. Joe wondered how his real name might sound on Nicky’s tongue . . .    
  
_ Shit - get a grip man. _   
  
He pulled himself out of his  _ very _ unprofessional thoughts, just in time to catch Lucio explaining that he had forwarded the contract to Andy when they were first on their way, and she had already signed it. Joe leaned forward when the newly printed forms were handed over to him and Booker. It was all straightforward, filled in from TOG’s own templates, and assigned Joe and Booker to watch Nicky in twelve hour shifts from Monday through Friday. Andy and Quynh would take over the weekends, and Lykon would be shadowing them.    
  
Part of him wondered if he should take the night shift, just to avoid more awake hours with Nicky - but Booker initialed and signed for it first, and Joe wondered if he did that on purpose. The coy grin he flashed him before sliding it over for Joe to sign for the day shift, strongly implied he had. He would definitely be asking Booker about it later.   
  
“I’ll have Mia, my head staff member, show you around the staff wing,” Lucio took the contract back, giving it final signatures as he continued, “You are welcome to all amenities within the wing - the common area, the staff kitchen, though you will need to provide for your own food.”   
  
That was pretty typical, and Joe figured he and Booker could grab some fast food for dinner that night, and eat protein bars from their go bags before going to a grocery store tomorrow. But as casual as Lucio was being about the whole thing, there was one important detail that Joe and Booker needed to know. Though blissfully Booker asked first, Joe wasn’t sure how to word it without sounding defensive on Nicky’s behalf, “Derek explained that Nicky is not aware of the legal issues happening right now.”   
  
Lucio looked at Booker, then at Derek who answered for him, “We both think it’s better he doesn’t know for now.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer Joe was hoping for, “So what exactly would you like us to say when he asks why we’re around?”   
  
“I am still debating that,” Lucio admitted, “I think I will have you here tonight, and introduce you personally to him tomorrow once he’s awake.” He folded his hands over the contract, “I’m leaning towards mentioning that there’s been some threats to members of the law firm I work for and that it’s a precaution while it’s being looked into. I think it’s vague enough.”   
  
Derek agreed, and Lucio went on to explain that though not often, it had happened before - corporate work where big firms felt slighted and had made threats against those involved, “ - Nicky’s had security details around growing up.”   
  
“How has he been with them in the past?” Joe thought he asked a seemingly simple question, but the way Lucio sort of grimaced made him already worry about how Nicky was going to handle their presence.   
  
“Well to be fair, he was in his teens, so - giving them the slip a little too often might have just been more teenage rebellion than anything else,” somehow the thought of a teenage Nicky running away from bodyguards made Joe smirk. He would never get away from  _ him _ that easily . . . “But, I’ll make sure he understands the necessity.”

“And what do we say to his staff or mother - “   


“She died some time ago,” Lucio explained, and though Joe apologized, he waved it off, “You didn’t know - it’s fine, it was a long time ago.” Joe knew all too well that time sometimes didn’t mean much when you were grieving, but it was obvious Lucio wanted to move on from the subject. He wouldn’t press for details, “As for the staff, I’ll arrange a meeting with them after Mia shows you around the staff wing. We’ll only give them the vague report we are sharing with Nicolò. So, rest up, and we’ll start tomorrow?”    
  
Joe and Booker agreed, standing up and exchanging handshakes before Lucio gave one last instruction, “I would appreciate weekly reports, unless something important comes up of course.”   
  
Joe felt horrible for lying - for not mentioning the car, but he could  _ feel _ Derek shooting him a pleading look. And the DEA liaison  _ had _ promised to look into the car. Joe would have to let the agency do the work, and trust he could keep Nicky safe in the meantime. Letting go of his hand, he remained silent, and allowed Booker to lie for them, “Of course - you’ll be the first to know.”   
  
Lucio smiled a little, and it sort of reminded Joe of Nicky’s - though they didn’t seem to share too many traits. He must have taken after his mother more, “Let me call Mia, she’ll take you to the staff wing.”   
  
It only took a few moments before there was a knock at the door, she must have been instructed beforehand to wait in the hallway till the meeting was over. She seemed kind enough, but Joe was awfully distracted once again by the possibility of running into Nicky before the morning. Just as they were walking out, Derek said he’d chat with them later, and Lucio thanked them one last time.    
  
But Joe felt downright awful.

For lying to Lucio about the attempt on Nicky.

And about having Nicky’s number on the inside of his palm.

_ And  _ for having to lie to Nicky the next time he saw him - both about the dangers lurking around, and about the fact that he would love nothing more than to sit at that coffee shop and watch him sip on that straw . . .

* * *

_ Nicky’s Pool _

_ Hours _ , it had been hours.   
  
Nile had left after the movie, Lucio hadn’t bothered to check on him, and Nicky tried to do just about anything that would keep him from looking at his phone. He snuggled with Felicia, shaved what little facial hair he had in case he  _ was _ having a date the next day, had dinner alone in his room, and then decided to take a swim in the pool. The sun was still up with the summer months, but it was well into the evening, and it wasn’t as hot as it could have been. Besides, the pool was fairly shaded and just the perfect temperature. 

As strange as the day had been, as soon as his legs dipped into the warm water, he instantly relaxed and sank down easily.    
  
He had learned how to swim at the same time his mother was using aqua therapy for pain management, and memories of long talks echoed through his mind when he found himself underneath the water. Only good memories though, of her smiles, and laughter, before she was too weak to use the pools anymore.    
  
The water was wonderful in helping with his anxiety, too. The thoughts that plagued him were drowned out by the noise of the water rushing around his ears. And the ebb of the flow around his limbs helped with the stiffness of his muscles. His head didn’t feel nearly as heavy anymore, and he could float towards the bottom in peaceful solitude. Sometimes he wished he could stay under the water, where it was quiet, and safe, and his mind wasn’t stuck in the cycles of  _ ‘what ifs’ _ . But inevitably his lungs would demand air, and he’d have to rush back to the surface.   
  
He would burst through the water, gasping for thick gulps of air, and slicked his now wet hair back with both hands. No one came out though. Most of the staff knew he preferred to be alone when he swam at night. But still, he had hoped his Dad might have walked out . . .   
  
He glided his body back into the water, deciding to swim a few laps instead. It was the easiest way for him to push the thoughts behind him. Worry, fear, disappointment, whatever weighed on his mind was wiped away by the current he created in the pool. He didn’t stop until his body insisted on a break, and he breathed heavily into the towel he had kept along the edge. Swiping the water off from his face, and his hands, he took one deep breath . . . and checked his phone one last time.   
  
Still no message from Joe.

He put the phone down, and sank back under the water, hoping it would help.

It didn’t.

* * *

_ Joe and Booker’s Staff Room  _

After Mia’s tour, they had left to go grab dinner but Joe pushed his food around more than anything else. Booker had tried to keep the chat casual, but frankly Joe had one too many things on his mind to really make a good conversationalist. He didn’t even protest when Booker teased he’d take the top bunk in their shared room, when usually Joe preferred the top.   
  
Finally, and maybe because Joe had been far too quiet lately, Booker tried one last time to cheer him up after they had settled for bed. 

“So - “ his accented voice came from above, “can we codename the place  _ ‘The Compound’ _ ?”   


Joe moved his bent arms behind his head, feigning actual contemplation though overall he agreed already, “It is pretty big - not as big as that singer’s from like four years ago, but easily top three.”   
  
Booker paused for a moment, but Joe already knew what he was about to ask: if they were discussing codenames for the house, they inevitably would be discussing codenames for the client as well, “And what about Nicky? I was thinking  _ ‘Prince’ _ \- “   


He closed his eyes for a moment, but agreed easily, “Yeah I guess he kinda is.”

The man was the sole heir to quite a bit of money. Even if the DEA seized a good portion of Lucio’s assets, he surely had set some of it aside in an untouchable trust for his son. Nicky was like a prince to a kingdom, and Joe felt even more inadequate to ever think about indulging his offer.    
  
“Maybe  _ ‘BluePrince’ _ ” Booker teased, “for his eyes?”   


Joe thought of Nicky’s eyes close up, of how they stared at him wide eyed when he first began to pull off of him after the close call earlier, “Actually they aren’t quite blue, but have a bit of green in them, too -” He pulled a hand out from behind his head, and gestured into the space above him, “and these kind of goldish, hazel flecks, too.”   
  
He could hear Booker shift on the bunk above him, before he leaned over the edge of the bed, “Staring into them too long?”   
  
Joe could barely look back at him, much less retort with anything but a short grumble. 

But Booker did not give up so easily, giving him a teasing smirk, “Did you text him?”   
  
“What? No -,” he turned onto his side, arms wrapped around his stomach, “of course not.”

“Great -” Booker resettled onto the bed, “so he’s gonna be pissed tomorrow morning when he was expecting a call from you, and instead sees you’re his bodyguard.”   
  
Joe stared at the wall beside him, desperately wanting to finish the conversation - so he used his real name to make it absolutely clear he was done, “Good night,  _ Sebastien _ .”   
  
The man chuckled, relenting, but couldn’t seem to help himself and teased back, “Good night,  _ Yusuf _ .”

The overhead light was off, but they each had a small bed light that illuminated the space just enough for Joe to open his hand, and stare at the handwriting Nicky had left on his palm. The man was likely already sleeping, not that far away from Joe, and he really wasn’t sure how he’d be able to get a restful sleep himself knowing he was so close.   
  
He wished he could have explained, sent him at least a _ ‘thank you’  _ text for the offer. But then he’d have to explain why he couldn’t accept . . .    
  
_ You have one job here _ , he needed to stay focused on Nicky’s safety,  _ nothing more, nothing less. _

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he licked the pad and brought it back to his palm. 

He rubbed at the dried ink until it smeared away after a few more attempts.

But staring at his now bare palm only made him sadder.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**NOTES:**  
  
We got double agents? Or - do we?? Hmm ~ you'll have to wait and see ;)  
ALSOPLUSALSO go and click "next chapter" - because Chapter 3 is being uploaded right away (we didn't want to leave y'all hanging on a cliffhanger this early on!)  
  



	3. First Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky learns about Joe's new role in his life - and he's not all too happy about it . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One week of character building, that features both awkward tension, _and_ sexual tension?? Why yes, yes it is . . .
> 
> TW: blood and stitches around the midway mark of the chapter

* * *

**_“The truth is rarely pure, and never simple” - Oscar Wilde_ **

* * *

  
  


_ June 3rd - Tuesday _

_ Di Genova Property _

Nicky rubbed the palm of his hand against his left eye, clearing some of the grogginess he had woken up with. After the long swimming session he had at least managed a decent night’s sleep, but he definitely needed some coffee. Putting on his white robe, in case staff were walking around, he left it open in the front. He had managed to put on some loose pajama bottoms, but didn’t really care to spend time finding the matching top. Besides, most everyone had seen him in his speedo anyway.    
  
He left his bedroom door open behind him so Felicia could go on exploring, while he headed towards the kitchen down the hall. He stepped down into the space, stretching his arms behind him for a moment, when he realized someone was sitting at the kitchen island. 

A tall, hunched over, man wearing a shirt that was clinging to  _ all _ the right places that showed off defined muscles and -  _ wait, Joe? _

He blinked away the last of his sluggishness, because Joe -  _ Joe! _ \- was  _ sitting _ in his kitchen.   
  
_ Fuck, did he break in? _

Joe’s eyes were wide, and Nicky realized he was probably getting a  _ full _ view of his chest . . . though he couldn’t exactly find the will to care. If he wasn’t starting to panic at the idea of the man being a stalker, he might have even smirked back at him - 

“Nicolò, you’re awake - good.”

Nicky turned his head slightly at the sudden appearance of his father, but his peripherals were locked on Joe, who seemed to be trying to look at anything else in the room. But his eyes kept shifting back to Nicky, “I wanted to introduce you to a member of your new security detail, this is Joe.”   
  
Nicky’s eyes snapped to his father’s, “What?”   
  
“Well I didn’t want to worry you earlier, but we’ve had some threats against members of the firm,” Lucio went to explain that that was why there more guards around the property, and he had taken the extra precaution to hire a full _ twenty four seven _ security detail for him, “Through the summer.”   
  
Nicky felt like his stomach was in knots. He wanted to ask  _ when _ Joe was hired,  _ was it yesterday? Was that the only reason he was there -  _ but he was beginning to feel overwhelmed. It didn’t help that Lucio was blocking his view of Joe. Or maybe it did. Maybe it would be worse to see his face at the moment. He had really thought Joe was interested. How had he misread things so badly?   
  
_ No _ , there was no way he could let Joe be his bodyguard all summer long. He looked at his father, had sort of  _ vaguely _ registered his words of concern, but his own heart thumped so hard that it sounded muffled against his ears. Nicky was desperate to get Lucio to change his mind. He felt so embarrassed for having thought it was a genuine connection, and worse, felt tricked that Joe didn’t even give him the courtesy of the truth yesterday. Just allowed him to make a fool of himself - in front of what,  _ his partner? _ Was  _ Booker _ his bodyguard, too?    
  
He’d still have to tell Nile - how was he ever going to explain it to her without looking downright pathetic. No, he just couldn’t . . . “D-Dad,  _ no _ .”

Lucio straightened, his eyes looking down towards Nicky’s bare feet. His tone was pleading, but it felt no less scolding to him, “Please, just listen for once -” He closed his mouth, like he was trying to stop himself from saying something else, but Nicky’s eyes felt hazy, certain of the next words his father wanted to say:  _ ‘you weren’t even supposed to be here this summer’ _ .    
  
Nicky nodded in defeat, and Lucio turned towards Joe, seemingly giving him some sort of final instructions before he left the room all together. 

Suddenly it was just Joe and Nicky in the kitchen, and he hesitatingly looked over at him. Those dark eyes of his seemed to be peering right through him, as if almost pitying him, and it only pissed him off more. The  _ last _ thing he wanted was Joe to feel sorry for him. Besides, sure, Joe was a  _ flipping Adonis _ sitting across from him on that bar stool - but Nicky wasn’t exactly lacking in willing partners. He could have his fair share of anyone he wanted, and he did not need his platitudes of  _ whatever _ he was about to say next.    
  
Nicky would make their dynamic very clear, and strike first instead by trying to play it cool, while at the same time calling him out on his lie from yesterday, “ _ ‘On the job’ _ , huh?” 

Something passed over Joe’s look, like he felt challenged -  _ good _ \- and yet, he slowly grinned back at him? Nicky tried hard not to notice how nice it looked, willing himself not to falter so easily. Joe curved his hands around his cup, and lifted it to his mouth. But just before taking a sip, he looked at Nicky, “I wasn’t lying.”   
  
No way was he going to let him off that easy. Leaning back against the cold counters, he gripped the edges for balance, and narrowed his eyes at him, “Lying by omission, is still lying.”   
  
Joe didn’t even look back at him, simply lowered the cup down between his hands on the island, as if he was contemplating how to talk his way out of this. It was strange, but there was still a part of Nicky that almost hoped he  _ could _ . Almost  _ wanted _ him to be able to. But neither said anything. And an awkward pause filled the space between them, until none other than Felicia made an appearance. She had leapt onto the island, cautiously sniffing at Joe, and Nicky wondered if she was trying to examine him the same way he had been. Joe remained still, until Felicia rubbed the top of her head against his knuckles. Then he uncurled his index finger from the cup and gently stroked the spot just behind her ear. She purred against the attention and Nicky pursed his lips,  _ ‘traitor.’ _   
  
Taking two steps towards the island, he leaned over the granite and picked her up. His own fingers accidentally brushed against Joe’s for a moment, before he managed to gather her into his arms. She settled against his chest easily enough, and he continued trying to ignore Joe as best as he could. He even turned around to make himself the cup of coffee he had originally come into the kitchen for, and hoped his unbrushed hair wasn’t flying in all sorts of directions.    
  
“Nicolò -” Joe’s voice sounded almost tired. Not nearly as jovial as he had been even minutes before. He was likely trying a different route, maybe even willing to apologize. But his real name was for family, and for the staff. Joe was neither. Even now, as much as he hated to admit, he didn’t want Joe to be  _ just _ the staff. 

He looked over his shoulder, not quite back at him, but enough for Joe to hopefully see the seriousness in his face, “You can call me Nicky.”   
  
But Joe must have misinterpreted, because he paused before sounding a little more quiet, “I’m just trying to keep it professional.”   
  
At least he knew where Joe stood now.

He had not been flirtatious with him yesterday. 

Nicky had misread things after all. 

Felicia lifted her head away from his chest, likely feeling his heartbeat picking up, and purred louder. He almost absentmindedly rubbed the top of her head, her fur on his fingertips helping to distract him a little. Keeping his eyes down on her, he tried to feign indifference, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He couldn’t see Joe’s face, but did watch his fingers tighten around the cup.

* * *

It had gone about as badly as Joe had feared it would.

He had spent most of the night tossing and turning, finally getting up all together at five for his six am shift. He tended to be more of a night owl naturally, and groggily moved around the staff wing after his basic morning routine, before meandering towards the main living area. A few staff persons were already moving about, but Joe must have looked every bit as miserable as he felt, and they seemed to steer clear before he finally sat down in the living room and waited for Lucio.

The man had explained that Nicky tended to sleep closer to eight, so he wasn’t exactly expecting to see either till then - which of course only meant that Joe was once again stuck in the loop of apprehension and guilt. He tilted his head back on the stiff, uncomfortable, sofa and stared up at the ceiling for far too long.

When Lucio finally did appear, he mumbled something about how Joe was allowed to make himself coffee if he needed it,  _ ‘even from the main living kitchen area’ _ \- though he did appreciate how well he was trying to follow the rules about the food. It only made Joe more morose since the last thing he'd admit to Lucio was how his general emotional state had  _ nothing _ to do with coffee.

But since he couldn't, he followed him into the kitchen anyways and asked if they had tea. After pointing out the necessary supplies, Joe decided on a green tea blend, and sat down with the cup at the counter while Lucio stood nearby. Neither said anything though, and awkward silence lingered in the air, until Joe heard light shuffling around the corner. His body immediately tensed, and he stared at the heat rising from the tea cup trying to avoid Nicky as long as possible.

Yet he couldn’t help it, as soon as he could hear him stepping into the space, his eyes cautiously glanced over - and then widened immediately. Nicky was currently standing there, eyes closed, hands behind his back and stretching a long,  _ bare _ , torso in his direction. His open robe revealed smooth skin, a flat stomach, and just the hint of pale pink nipples peeking out from behind the fabric. Joe’s mouth went dry as his eyes shifted down towards the low hanging pajama bottoms and caught the beginning wisps of hair that led to his groin.    
  
Nicky  _ had _ to have sensed his eyes on him, because when they opened, his gaze went directly to Joe. His look was an odd mix of mild panic, and curiosity, and though Joe wanted to say something, Lucio started first. Stepping between them, he greeted his son casually, and Joe was grateful for the reprieve of the view. He needed to take a few calming breaths and remember what he was here for.  _ A job. Just a job.  _

He couldn’t quite make out Nicky’s first words, but Lucio’s firm reply of _ ‘just listen’ _ implied he had tried arguing against the idea of Joe being there. He wasn’t surprised of course, but it only piled on another layer of the guilt he was carrying.    
  
And then it went worse from there. Once finally alone, Joe wanted to tell him everything, apologize, but he had agreed not to and he stared at Nicky  _ willing _ him to understand. Yet if he had thought the man was going to accept the status quo that easily he was mistaken. His first words were a call out, and he seemed downright cocky about it, too. Out of  _ all _ the things Joe was having to withhold from Nicky, his quib about  _ ‘being on the job’ _ was the  _ only _ truth he  _ had _ told him yesterday. It felt deeply ironic that  _ that _ would be the thing Nicky would want to argue about.   
  
As much as he wanted to placate him, Joe couldn’t help the grin that formed, and easily replied back that it wasn’t a lie. Of course Nicky immediately countered that omissions were lies, too, and frankly Joe knew he was right. His first, and seemingly only, moment of peace that morning was shaken from him and he carefully considered his next words because the last thing he wanted was to make Nicky even more upset than he already seemed.   
  
The silence between them felt maddening.

And just when he felt like he could crawl out of his skin - a cat leapt onto the counter, jostling him from his thoughts. It cautiously moved towards him, and though Joe wasn’t much of a cat lover, he appreciated the way its head sort of bonked against his hand. He slowly raised an index finger to glide over the fur, and relished in the small distraction for a moment. It felt nice.   
  
Though not as nice as Nicky’s fingers brushing against his hand a moment later, when he reached to scoop it up into his arms. Joe had to cling to the cup, in order to avoid extending his hands to grab his wrist. He had been so close for a moment, just like the day before, and all he wanted was to go back to that. Go back to  _ before _ where maybe they could have met under different circumstances. Where the thought of buying him a drink didn’t come with guilt.

Nicky had already turned around, seemingly making himself something to drink. One arm curved around the cat, whose tail swung in a random pattern against his robe, while his other reached into a cabinet to grab himself a cup. Joe had noticed how his hair was unbrushed, like he had just rolled out of bed (a downright endearing look on him), which meant he had likely shaved the night before. He looked even younger now than his twenty four years, but it was the mole near his lips that had been obscured by his facial hair the day before, that made Joe want to lean in . . .    


He closed his eyes for a moment to push those thoughts back. Joe needed to be clear about needing to stay focused on this job, even if it pained him to say it. Emotionally worn out, he slowly opened his eyes to raise them to Nicky, and addressed him by the name Lucio had used. 

He hated the way Nicky’s fingers flexed against the cabinet when he heard it. And worse, the way he  _ sort of  _ looked back at him, but not really, when he replied that Joe should call him  _ ‘Nicky’ _ . Which made sense. Joe only allowed the people closest in his life to ever address him by his real name, the ones who had loved him from the beginning, or earned that place in his heart. It was likely no different for Nicky, and he shouldn’t have presumed it could be.   
  
How was he ever going to make it through August . . . “I’m just trying to keep it professional.” 

Finally Nicky turned back around, still clinging to the cat, eyes cast down at it. 

Which was likely better anyways, because once he said he would  _ ‘keep that in mind’ _ , Joe’s fingers gripped the tea cup so tightly he almost broke it.   
  
It was all wrong.   
The things that were being kept from Nicky.

The lies and danger swirling around him.

And the fact that Joe was dragged into it, when he wanted nothing more than -    
  
“I need to go for a coffee run.”   
  
Joe glanced up at Nicky, but he merely walked towards the hallway, likely heading to his room to change, “I’ll pull the car around.”   
  
He took another sip of his tea, but realized Nicky was still standing there when he brought it back down between his hands. When he looked over at him, he saw his surprised face, “Why - why would you be bringing the car around?”   
  
Slightly confused, and frankly a little too tired to go through the painful reminder of exactly  _ why _ he was here, Joe got up from the bar stool and walked around the counter to pour out the remainder of the tea, “I’m supposed to stay close.” He rinsed off the cup, placed it in the sink for later, and walked closer to Nicky, but paused several feet away, “I’m your shadow for another ten hours.” 

Nicky didn’t look all too happy about it, but irregardless of his feelings, Joe still had a job to do. He could sulk, or scream, or frankly even kick the seat - but Joe was not letting the man leave the house by himself. Naturally though, since no one seemed to think Nicky deserved the truth, he understandably looked downright annoyed and mumbled about meeting him in  _ ‘the driveway in fifteen minutes’ _ . Joe nodded, but waited for Nicky to turn around before heading to the staff wing.   
  
Since Booker was expected to be awake for his night shift, Joe quietly rummaged through his go bag in their room so the man could keep sleeping. Grabbing his wallet, phone and charger, he headed to the garage and took the keys for the nondescript SUV he was asked to use when driving Nicky around. It was fancier than Booker’s car, and came with an easily traceable GPS. All in all, he had managed to pull as close to the front door as possible, with two minutes to spare, and watched Nicky  _ sigh _ as he stepped out.   
  
He likely felt infantilized. And who could blame him?   
Being driven around like a child, over - as far as  _ he _ knew - some  _ ‘vague threats’ _ ?

He got in silently, right behind the passenger seat, and if Joe had wondered how accepting he would be of their professional dynamic - all concern was eroded, when Nicky looked out the window, and simply asked for him to start driving. He at least ended it with a quiet  _ ‘please’ _ , but Joe wouldn’t have been offended if he hadn’t. Nicky deserved to feel some anger over all of this.    
  
Then again, with the way Joe was gripping the steering wheel,  _ he _ was feeling enough anger over it for the both of them.   
  
Blissfully Joe managed to find a different coffeehouse then from the one yesterday, because really the thought of having gone back  _ there _ was downright painful to consider. It had only taken ten minutes, but once again the silence felt unbearable, and Nicky almost hurriedly stepped out as soon as Joe had parked at the curb. He doubted anyone would just  _ happen _ to be at the shop who would want to harm Nicky, and he had checked to make sure no one was following them, but even needing a minute to catch up behind him left Joe feeling uneasy.   
  
Once he walked in and saw Nicky standing in line, it helped cool his nerves a bit, and he took a seat in a nearby empty table close to the door. He was trying not to be obvious about it, but it was hard not to notice Nicky when he was standing ten feet away from him. And with him talking with the barista, Joe allowed his eyes to wander over his body. Along the same jeans he was wearing from yesterday that curved perfectly around his ass, which were rolled up just above bare ankles. And up towards the plain pale blue shirt that showed off lean, but muscular, arms. His earring glinted in the sunlight coming in through the windows, and when he smiled a little at something the barista said, his chest tightened because all Joe wanted was that smile directed at him again.   
  
He spotted Joe by the door after paying, but chose not to walk over while he waited for his order. Maybe it was too painful for him too, to  _ sort of _ have that drink together, but under such strained circumstances.   


Once the drink was ready Nicky picked it up, and without addressing Joe, simply walked out of the shop. Joe rolled his eyes, because frankly he was beginning to wonder if Nicky had half a mind to steal the car and leave him there. According to Mia, during the tour she gave them yesterday, he had done it once to a previous bodyguard when he was fourteen - and again, at sixteen.    
  
He decided to give Nicky a moment, not more than a minute, before following him outside. He likely needed some fresh air from the morning crowd, and he wouldn’t begrudge him some semblance of privacy, no matter how minuscule.    
  
However when he had stood up to head outside, he spotted a man approaching Nicky hurriedly, and gesturing excitedly at him. He couldn’t make out Nicky’s face from the angle, but he definitely caught a flinch in his upper body. And from the way his shoulders looked a little tense,  _ and _ how he kept the cup close to his chest as if to form a barrier between himself and the man, implied he was (at the very least) uncomfortable. 

Joe stepped out immediately, and in three quick steps, positioned himself between the stranger and Nicky, “Who are you?”

The man blinked, and stared at him for a moment, “Uh - Tom?”   
  
Joe looked him up and down, and back again, “Let’s see some ID -”   
  
“Joe!” Nicky’s annoyed voice gasped behind him, but Joe refused to turn around. 

He kept his eyes on the man, waiting for him to rummage through his pockets for his wallet, “ID, sir.”   
  
The man looked past Joe’s arm, at Nicky shifting behind him, and nervously chuckled, “I guess I’ll see you at the center next week?”   
  
Nicky stepped out beside Joe, nervous fingers clutching his cup, “You most certainly will, I am so sorry, Tom.”   
  
The man shrugged, but did give Joe a questionable stare before walking away. 

Nicky immediately turned to him as soon as he was out of ear shot, “I cannot believe you just did that.”   


Joe was utterly confused - he was  _ certain _ he had read Nicky’s body language correctly, “You - looked uncomfortable.” 

"I - I wasn't expecting to run into anybody today, but it's just Tom -"

"So, a friend then?" he really didn’t want to invade Nicky’s privacy anymore than he already had, but if he was misreading things this badly, he’d need a list of his friends. If anything so he wouldn’t start tackling people who were just trying to say,  _ ‘hi’ _ .

But Nicky was really not helping things when he wouldn’t even give him a straight answer, "Um, not exactly." 

“Could you please tell me who the guy was?” couldn’t Nicky understand he was just thinking of his safety? Was he going to be this vague  _ all  _ the time?   
  
There was just a hint of hopefulness in Nicky’s eyes, “Jealous?”   
  
_ Hardly _ , the man looked to be in his sixties. But when Joe didn’t immediately reply, afraid to even lightly tease about that, Nicky seemed to falter a bit. And Joe reached for the key remote in his pocket, “Look, I’m just trying to do my job and keep you safe, ok?”   
  
Nicky opened his mouth, like maybe he was just about to say something, but then he suddenly looked down, and ran his top front teeth over his bottom lip,  _ slowly _ . It seemed to imply nervousness but  _ dammit _ , if it didn’t make Joe wish  _ he _ was the one gnawing on that lip instead.    
  
He pressed the unlock button in the remote in his hand, and reached around Nicky to open the back door for him. Neither said anything else, and Nicky hesitatingly stepped inside. Joe had managed not to slam the door shut, but he did grumble to himself as he walked around to the driver’s side. Why couldn’t Nicky understand that he was simply trying to keep him safe? Was he really going to be this defiant,  _ and _ this tempting, every single step of the way? 

* * *

By the time Joe pulled up to his house, Nicky was practically a nervous mess as he cycled through the exchange in his mind on a loop. He drank down his iced coffee as quickly as he could, desperately needing the caffeine fix, but it didn't exactly help his already shaky fingers. Tom was one of the men on the board at the community center, helping Nicky with the program he was trying to get started by mid summer. Obviously he hadn’t expected to run into him on the sidewalk but he certainly wasn’t going to be rude to the guy, just because he was trying to hurry him along. He had only told Nile about his plans with the center, not even his Dad yet, and he didn’t want Joe to know - at least not until things had been arranged.   
  
Though gosh, who knew if Tom would even talk to him after how dismissive Joe had been to the man. He would be certain to reach out to him just as soon as he could, hoping that Joe’s behavior hadn’t somehow inadvertently offended him - or worse, affected the center’s willingness to even work with Nicky in the future. Hopefully no one would hold him responsible for Joe’s behavior, but if he was really around until the end of the summer, he also couldn’t blame them if they didn’t want Nicky (and thus Joe) stopping by.    
  
He would desperately need to straighten all this out, with Joe as well. But that would require admitting what he was up to.  _ Ugh _ , the cycle started all over again, and he closed his eyes for a moment as Joe parked the car at the top of the driveway. His mind was jumping to worst case scenarios, and he had to remind himself it  _ wasn’t _ that bad. It  _ wouldn’t _ be that bad.    
  
He managed two deep breaths, before Joe opened the door for him, but he wasn’t exactly ready to talk to him just yet. Somewhere deep down he  _ did _ understand he was just doing his job, but that almost made it worse. A painful reminder once again of why he shouldn’t allow himself to get lost so easily in those dark pools inside his eyes. He slid out of the seat, clutching the now empty cup, and walked around him easily as he headed inside.    
  
Nicky could feel him following close, but he stopped in the hallway when he saw him heading towards his bedroom. He ducked inside, closed his door behind him, and immediately looked for Felicia. She was a fantastic support system for him, and even if it just helped with the initial layer of raw nerves, it would be something.   
  
Yet, she wasn’t snuggled on her usual spot on his bed. 

He kneeled down to the floor, but she wasn’t underneath it either.

His room was fairly barren, aligned in design with the rest of the house, and there were only so many spaces she could have tucked herself into. He got up quickly, shuffling towards the attached bathroom, but there was no sign of her. He could have sworn he had shut the door behind him when he had left, but the empty waste basket implied a staff member had come in while he was gone. Most of the staff knew he preferred to clean up after himself, but that wasn’t even a concern for Nicky at this point. Where was Felicia?   
  
He swung his door open, making his way into the living room, and spotted Joe leaning against the couch. He had been looking out onto the backyard, but turned his head when he heard his heavy breathing, “Have you seen Felicia?”   
  
Joe raised a curious eye brow, “Who’s Felicia?”   
  
“My  _ cat _ ,” Nicky huffed.   
  
Joe tilted his head to the backyard, “She climbed up the tree about five minutes ago.”   
  
“ _ What? _ ” Nicky already crossed the room, heading for the large glass accordion doors, “You let her outside?”

He was already stepping onto the shaded patio, Joe not far behind, “The door was already open, I didn’t know it was like a rule or something.”   
  
“I - she could just - “ Nicky looked between the several trees lined near the wall, genuinely fearing she would somehow jump over the edge and hurt herself, “Which one?”   
  
Joe pointed to the one closest to them, and Nicky walked over quickly, spotting her a good ten feet above him. Seeing her resting on the large branch contently helped soothe his nerves a little, but only barely, “Felicia.”   
  
She opened her eyes for a moment, glanced down, and then closed them again like she was too tired to bother. Nicky put his hands on his hips, ready to tell her off, when he remembered Joe was still standing nearby and he’d likely look a little insane. He was already an anxious mess, but he didn’t want to appear completely unhinged by yelling at a cat in a tree . . . 

He mumbled under his breath at her instead, “You’re going to make my climb this tree and get you aren’t you?”   
  
She didn’t stir, and he sighed in defeat. Reaching for the lowest branch, he pulled himself up a little awkwardly but managed to grab the second branch easier. He had barely started, but stumbled a little when his converse sneakers slid down against the bark.   
  
“Hey wait -”  _ great _ , so Joe had seen that, “don’t like, hurt yourself.”   
  
Nicky had just positioned himself between two branches, and looked down at Joe in both frustration  _ and _ annoyance, “I - I can do this.”   
  
Stretching his upper torso, he extended his arm towards her, his fingers brushing right against her tail. But she was just out of reach, and he tilted his body further, shaky fingers clutching the trunk behind him, “Nicky  _ stop _ \- I’ll get her.”   
  
It sounded like Joe was already starting to climb the tree, and it somehow annoyed him even more to think he couldn’t even handle  _ this _ . Ignoring his suggestion, he pushed his body just a bit too far, and suddenly began to fall forward, “ _ Cazzo _ -”   
  
The fall itself wasn’t that bad, his pride would have been more wounded than anything else, but he managed to slam his hand right against the metal spray nozzle of their in ground sprinkler system. The impact of the fall caused a small, but deep gash just along the edge of his palm, and he winced at the pain before rolling to his side.   
  
“Nicky!”   
  
Both embarrassed, and in pain, he tried to sit up at least. Really just wanting to pretend that the last twenty minutes of his life hadn’t happened. Within moments he saw Joe’s large, black, boots land into the grass and he slowly roamed his eyes up the slim cut cargo pants, “Shit, you’re bleeding.”   
  
Nicky blinked up towards his torso, glad to see he had at least had a strong grip on Felicia. That instantly helped with his anxiety . . . though he was still left with crippling humiliation. He still couldn’t manage to raise his head to Joe’s face yet. Instead he kept his gaze focused on Felicia who was looking at him just as wide eyed.   
  
“Show me.”   
  
Joe kneeled on the balls of his feet, so close that Nicky could see how fast his heart was beating underneath the skin of his tanned neck, “Mm, what?”    
  
Suddenly he felt Joe’s fingers wrap around his wrist; a warm, steady, grip that he easily maneuvered close to his face to examine the wound. Only then did Nicky realize the pain wasn’t just in his head, and he grimaced when he saw the rivet of blood that dribbled over the curve of his hand and down onto the grass between them, “Come on, you’ll need stitches.”   
  
Nicky didn’t know what to say. If he should say anything at all. 

So instead he remained silent, allowing Joe to carry Felicia, and lead him inside. 

As soon as Nicky stepped through the doorway, Joe’s fingers tightened for just a moment, pausing him on the spot. He closed the door behind him, and let Felicia hop onto the polished concrete floors, before locking eyes with Nicky. Between the way his fingers curled around his wrist, and the way Joe’s eyes gleamed down at him, Nicky felt a shiver run down his back - though what that meant, he couldn’t even tell anymore.    
  
It had been a  _ rough _ morning,  _ and _ he was starting to feel lightheaded. 

Joe glanced away, and resumed his pace towards the kitchen, close to the sink as he moved his hand under the cold water. The clear water splashed over the wound, and Nicky watched quietly as the basin was splattered with droplets of blood near the drain. 

“Don’t faint.”   
  
Nicky jostled a little at hearing Joe’s voice so close, and he finally managed to shake himself out of the moment. Only to spot Joe’s chest close to him,  _ so _ close that it really wouldn’t take much to just reach out -    


“I can’t believe you risked your safety over a cat.”   
  
He pushed through the haze, the sheen before his eyes clearing, and he shot him a glare, “Her name is Felicia.”   
  
“It’s a  _ cat _ , Nicky, let’s keep it in perspective,” he objected, and Nicky wanted to pull his wrist away, but Joe refused to let go, “Hey - I still need to stitch it.”   
  
“ _ You-? _ ” Nicky’s head whipped up to his face, and he finally saw the concern in his worried gaze. He had only heard exasperation in his voice, but now Nicky realized it wasn’t just that,  _ but concern, too? _ and it helped soothe the defensiveness he had been feeling, “- yo-you, are going to stitch it?”   
  
Joe turned the water off, raising Nicky’s hand up higher, close to his shoulder, “Here, keep it above heart level it will help with the bleeding.” Nicky stayed still, but watched as Joe opened up one of the zippered pockets of his cargo pants. Pulling out a small black pouch, Joe placed it on the countertop, and opened it to reveal a compact first aid kit which included a curved needle and thread. He certainly must have felt Nicky’s eyes on him, but waited till he had the thread looped around the needle head before finally explaining, “We get some basic combat first aid training.”   


He reached for Nicky’s hand, easily bringing it down to rest it inside his. Curving his arm, he leaned forward on the bent elbow, keeping it steady as he gave the wound one more thorough look, “Two or three stitches max - want the numbing spray?”   
  
Nicky narrowed his eyes, “I can handle it.”   
  
Joe huffed around a smirk, “Don’t have to prove anything to me.”   
  
“I- I wasn’t,” Nicky felt annoyed. Because in a way - that’s exactly what he was doing. Though he wasn’t really ready to admit that just yet. Besides, Joe was the one who was so dismissive to Tom earlier, and who had lied about working for his Dad,  _ and _ seemed to imply that Felicia wasn’t worth trying to rescue from a tree. Whatever he had meant with his statement didn’t really matter. He shouldn’t have felt the need to win Joe’s approval. In any way shape, or form. 

And yet here he still was. Sort of doing exactly that.    
  
When the needle broached the skin, he jerked a little at the sharp pain, and clamped his mouth shut. Tears stung at his eyes, but managed to keep them tightly closed, as Joe seemed to work as quickly as possible.   
  
“Almost done.”   
  
“Ta-take your time,” he hated how shaky the first word sounded, but was relieved when Joe grabbed a pair of small scissors and cut the thread.   
  
Nicky tentatively opened his eyes, looking down at the two small stitches on the side of his palm, and the tiny bow knotted at the end. It would look almost cute if dried blood wasn’t crusted along the edge. Joe was quietly cleaning up the counter, rinsing off the things he used with some sort of disinfectant packets, before putting everything back in his pocket, “Next time. Let’s avoid the self sacrifice. I’ll get the cat.”   
  
Nicky lowered his hand, mindful not to rest the palm down on his jeans, “ _ Felicia _ .”   
  
Joe leaned against the edge of the counter, one hand resting against the smooth stone, the other shoved in his side pocket. It made his already long torso look particularly appealing, “You could have landed on your neck, cut right through an artery.”   
  
Nicky rolled his eyes, “I might be an anxious mess, but you’re being downright dramatic.”   
  
He moved a little closer, and spoke quietly, as if somehow no one else was meant to hear, “Is that what’s going on - you have anxiety?”   
  
Nicky blinked up at him, “That wasn’t written down in  _ bold _ letters in my file for you? Kind of an open secret around here.”    
  
Joe’s eyes studied his face for a moment, “I was only hired yesterday, and no, there was no file.”   
  
Somehow that was a relief - knowing that Joe hadn’t known him earlier, quietly watching him from afar. There was likely more to ask about that lingering look he was giving him, but all Nicky could think about was running his finger along the crease in Joe’s furrowed brow, “You look like you’re going to give yourself worry lines.” 

Joe tried to relax his face a little, letting some of the tension drain from his shoulders as his upper body slumped. And he glanced down, his own hand coming dangerously close to Nicky’s fingers resting beside him, “I am worried about something.”   
  
He didn’t know what kind of cologne Joe was using, or maybe that was just the way he smelled, but the closer he inched towards Nicky, the more hazy things seemed to get. He could feel that same warmth radiating off of Joe now, like it had when he was holding him yesterday. Nicky’s eyes felt  _ oh so _ heavy, and his mouth dry, as he thought back to how nice Joe’s arms felt around his body.   
  
“Nicky - ” Joe’s voice sounded rough, but even  _ closer _ now.   
  
“Mm?” Nicky could count the freckles on his cheekbones.   
  
And then suddenly . . .

Booker’s voice cut through the moment, “Uh, am I interrupting something?”   
  


* * *

Joe instantly pulled back, internally chastising himself for having gotten so carried away.

He straightened his body, and leaned back closer to the sink, putting at least two feet between him and Nicky. The man looked downright dazed for a moment, before he caught onto Joe’s shift, and something flashed over his eyes. He hadn’t given Nicky the courtesy of addressing him first, merely looked over at Booker, and answered with a flat tone, “No, nothing.”   
  
It had to have been the emphasis on the word  _ ‘nothing’ _ , because Joe could  _ feel _ Nicky’s cold stare from beside him, even without looking back over.    
  
Booker looked like he was ready to step right back out of the room, let them finish whatever they had just been in the middle of, but really this was for the best. He had almost . . .  _ well shit _ , what was he about to do? Tell him how protective he felt over him already? More than any other client he had ever had? 

Was he going to tell him how scared he was when he watched Nicky fall from the tree? How much he wanted to shake him for putting himself at risk like that - and then kiss his palm where he had to stitch it,  _ all over a fucking cat . . .  _ Was he going to tell him how worried he was about the dangers lurking around the corner? How he didn’t know how he was going to make it  _ days _ , much less  _ months _ without leaning in close -

“Are you taking over his shift?” Nicky’s voice sounded detached, as he moved closer to the island between him and Booker. 

Booker glanced over Joe first, then looked almost hesitant to answer, “Uh, a few more hours?”   
  
Nicky was gnawing on his bottom lip, actually more like  _ chewing _ it, and Joe thought back to him sharing about his anxiety. How he was likely  _ exasperating  _ the man’s anxiety.  _ Great _ , Joe wondered if he could have felt any guiltier, but nope, he had reached a  _ whole new _ level. Nicky tilted his head towards the living room, and spotted Felicia on the sofa. He didn’t say anything to either of them, merely walked over to her and picked her up.    
  
Booker gave Joe a questioning look, but he honestly wasn’t sure what was happening, and shrugged his shoulders in response. Both men stopped as soon as Nicky turned back with Felicia resting against his chest, “I’m going to be in my room till tonight.”   
  
Joe opened his mouth to say something, but really what was there to say?    
Besides, Nicky was already making his way to the wide opening that led to the hallway, and looked like he was sort of picking at his lips now . . .  _ fuck _ .

Once he disappeared around the corner, Booker turned back to him, “ _ Mon Dieu _ , Joe, what did you do to the poor man?” Joe sank against the countertop, frankly exhausted already, and his extended silence only gave Booker more ammunition, “It’s not even ten yet - you gonna make it to six?”   
  
When Joe lifted his eyes over to his friend, Booker actually looked slightly remorseful, and tried to extend a peace offering, “ _ Pardon _ . . . hey I was just grabbing a snack - but why don’t you head out for a bit, clear your head?”   
  
Joe ran his hands over his weary face, before curling them around the back of his neck and looking up towards the ceiling, “I think - I think I’ll take you up on that.” Booker nodded, and Joe told him to text anything he might want from the store, though he was pretty certain what any potential list would entail. If he could manage to clear his head, and get the groceries taken care of, he could tell himself he was at least succeeding at multitasking. 

* * *

_ Target _

_ Thirty Minutes Later _

Having grabbed most of the things he and Booker would want to keep in the staff kitchen, Joe began to wander the aisles roaming for some things for himself. He normally left his art supplies at their apartment, or his safe house, using them in between jobs as a sort of transition back into civilian life after the stresses of the job. But watching Nicky was affecting him more than he had wanted to admit. 

After grabbing a few paperbacks to read during his shifts, and a pair of pads and pens he could tuck under his mattress, he figured it would have to do. He  _ could _ have gone to the local craft store, but surely Booker would have noticed a whole art kit in the corner of their room, and he didn’t really care to share the intimate details of what was going through his mind with the man. He knew Booker wouldn’t judge him  _ per se _ , Hell he might even encourage him,  _ but still _ \- it wasn’t that simple.   
  
Not only did he feel protective of Nicky, he sort of felt sorry for him, too. 

Stuck in a large, cold, house with a Dad caught up in illegal dealings.   
Clinging to a cat of all things . . . and running on frayed nerves.

Lied to, left and right - and by Joe, too.

His own guilt weighed heavily across his tense shoulders.

Whatever the reason (attraction, pity, guilt, or all three), Joe felt like Nicky deserved better.

Someone looking out for what  _ he _ needed, not what the DEA  _ wanted. _

_ Little things _ , just something that showed the man that someone was actually paying attention.

He started with simple: Nicky’s phone seemed different than Joe’s, so he picked up a charger for him to keep in the SUV next time. Just in case he needed one. 

Also, Joe had noticed just a  _ faint _ line of pink on his cheeks and nose earlier. At first he had wondered if he was blushing, but once he remembered Mia mentioned that he liked to swim a lot, he realized it was a faint sunburn. So he also added sunscreen to the cart. 

Finally he pulled out his phone, and looked up any holistic options for anxiety. 

Surely he could keep a few on one hand next time they were out in the community.   
  
But as he scrolled through the options - casually adding a few more items to the cart - he smirked when he had made it towards the bottom of the list:  _ perfect. _ Figuring it would not only help with the anxiety, but also be a bit of comedic relief for the end of the shift, he looked through the aisles, and bought a whole pack before heading to the checkout lanes. 

* * *

_ Di Genova Property _

_ Dinner Time _

Joe had been gone less than an hour, and though Booker had offered to help him unload their things when he had first gotten back, his friend was going to need more sleep for his night shift. Booker tapped his shoulder, and wished him  _ ‘luck’ _ , before heading to their room till later that night. 

Besides, Joe would just use the supplies he had bought to pass the time in the living room until Nicky decided to come out.    
  
There was definitely a part of him that had wanted to make some sort of excuse to  _ ‘check in’ _ on Nicky. But he fought against it, if anything to give him time to recuperate. He did make good use of the next couple of hours though. Reading up on anxiety, and things that now seemed to make a little more sense as he scanned over various online articles. Yet he’d be mindful of suggesting things out right, since Joe understood all too well how frustrating it could feel to have someone tell you how to deal with things internally. He didn’t suffer from anxiety, but he understood getting stuck in your mind sometimes.    
  
The art helped to push painful memories aside, and he quietly sketched inside the pads he had purchased earlier. Mostly of Nicky’s house, or Lucio’s office, though inevitably he did begin to work on an outline that obviously resembled Nicky’s profile. He kept erasing the eyes over and over again, frustration overriding talent, because he felt that he just wasn’t able to do them justice.   
  
Finally, he gave up all together, and began the first few pages of one of the books he had bought. 

Joe made it a point not to look at his phone too often during a shift, far too easily distracted by all the features. He did keep a cheap flip phone in one of the pockets for emergencies, but outside TOG security, no one would be calling him on it. A book was easy enough to keep his mind from wandering too far, and still keep his senses sharp to any sudden changes in the environment around him and a client.    
  
Plus, when no one was looking, he could doodle in the margins of the pages.   
  
“You seem more relaxed,” Booker’s voice made him lift his head towards the doorway. Joe could have sworn there was at least another hour before shift change, but when he glanced at his phone he saw that sure enough it was five thirty. Technically Booker didn’t take over till six, but they liked to have dinner together, allowing the tail end of his shift, and the start of Booker’s, to overlap as they discussed anything pertinent the other might need to know.   
  
Of course, that meant that Booker would be asking for details about Nicky, and honestly, Joe wasn’t even sure where to begin, “Yeah, I am - thanks by the way for covering for me.”   
  
“No big deal, I basically just sat where you were in case he came out,” he turned his upper torso towards the hallway behind him, before looking at Joe, “Guess he still hasn’t?”    
  
Joe shook his head, “Mia said he sometimes likes to hide away for a day, and then dive in the pool at night - so heads up on that.”   
  
“Good to know,” Joe knew Booker wanted to likely ask more but thankfully he chose restraint instead, “well hey, my turn to make dinner, so which one you want? Carbs? Or protein?”    
  
“Carbs - make it a double.”   
  
Booker smiled, before he headed through the double doors that led to the staff wing. Surely he’d be back before six, and they’d sit at the kitchen waiting for the clock to run out. Joe tended to still stay up a little longer after a shift, but after the last twenty four hours, the bed was calling him.   
  
He leaned his head back, still finding the sofa stiff, and uncomfortable, but his eyes closed for a bit as a light sleep overtook him - 

\- Until twenty minutes later, when he was startled awake by a cabinet door banging in the kitchen. His upper body lurched forward, and he had to remember exactly where he was for a second, before he hurriedly looked over to the general direction of where the noise had come from. He forced his eyes to open a little more, and caught Nicky standing behind the island, wide eyed and with his hand curled in front of his mouth, “  _ \- s-sorry _ .”

His voice was both quiet, and muffled by his curved fingers, but it still took Joe a moment to register things. Leaning forward onto his elbows, he lowered his face into his hands and glided his fingers over his hairline, before standing up to stretch. He was already making his way over to Nicky, but had bent an arm over his shoulder for a deeper roll along the joint. It gave a slight crack under the pressure, and it helped with the general soreness the rigid couch had caused. Finally he had made it to the island, and sort of  _ slumped _ into the barstool. The overhead lights felt like they were drying his eyes out, and he looked at Nicky with bleary eyes, “What did you say?”   
  
Nicky blinked at him, and started to turn away, “Uh, just  _ ‘sorry’ _ \- I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No worries, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep before my shift was over anyways,” Joe lightly scratched at the short hairs towards the back of his head, willing himself to wake up more before he planned on giving Nicky his present. But then again, Booker might be coming back any moment, so it was now or never, “By the way, before I do head to bed -  _ here _ , I got you something.”   
  
Nicky who seemed to have been making himself his own dinner, tensed a little, before glancing back, “Seriously?”   
  
Joe had already managed to unzip one of the pockets, and pulled out the packet, “No big deal, but I was reading it helps with anxiety.”   
  
Nicky moved closer, waiting for Joe to raise his hands above the ledge of the countertop, to see. But now that he was facing him under the lights, Joe saw that Nicky had picked at a spot on his lip so hard that he had caused it to bleed.    
  
It stilled him for a moment.    
He hadn’t realized it had been _ that _ bad.   
He knew reasonably that it wasn’t all his fault, but somehow Joe hoped even something small like a pack of gum could help Nicky know that someone was thinking of him. Though to be fair, he chose the cherry flavored one both because he read aromatherapy was good for anxiety,  _ and _ because he thought it was a bit tongue in cheek.    
  
He slid it across the counter, and Nicky glanced at it, before giving him just a  _ hint _ of a sly smile. 

His shoulders even shook a little, like he was holding back a dry laugh.   
  
“Supposedly there’s all this research online about how it helps, and I hope it might -” then he paused after tapping the package with his index finger. Joe could always blame it on his own drowsiness later, but the reality was he was desperate to see a real smile on him . . . and, give him some encouragement to give the gum a try. So raising his finger, he gestured at Nicky’s face, and suggested almost casually, “ - Because your lips are too pretty to do that to.”   


Nicky didn’t smile, but the tips of his ears went pink, and Joe fully realized what he had just said.

But  _ fuck _ if he could find the will to feel anything but pride at making him blush.   
  
Feeling a little sleep drunk, emotionally worn out,  _ and _ figuring he better leave before he said all  _ sorts _ of other things - Joe turned on the stool . . . and saw Booker standing there with two plates in his hands. 

He gave him a long stare, and would certainly tease him mercilessly in the morning, but Joe was too hungry, and too tired to give him a proper retort. Stepping off the stool, he managed a simple  _ ‘thank you’ _ , took his plate, and grabbed his things off the sofa.    
  
Joe did remember to sort of say  _ ‘good night’  _ to Booker and Nicky, but didn’t actually look back as he headed into the staff wing and towards his room.   
  
He ate three bites, and promptly fell asleep.

He  _ was _ going to be mortified when he woke up the next morning, and recalled what he had said to Nicky when he was too tired to filter his words, but at least he had managed to sleep better than the night before. 

* * *

_ June 4th - Wednesday _

_ Di Genova Property _

When Joe woke up the next morning it was to Booker’s face entering his view from an askew angle. He pressed his own further into the pillow for a moment, making sure he wasn’t actually still asleep, before opening his eyes more, “Wh-what is it?”   
  
Booker’s long strands dangled near his cheekbones, and he seemed like he was trying to stifle a laugh, “You know how two days ago, I said,  _ ‘you’re fucked’ _ ?”   
  
Joe wearily processed the words, and could already hear the faint beginnings of Booker’s chuckle at his muttered reply, “Yeah?”   
  
“I amend my original statement: you’re  _ so _ fucked,” he had managed to state it clearly enough, but rolled from his kneeled position beside Joe’s bunk, straight onto his butt, when he began to laugh  _ hard _ , “You - you literally told the man you thought his lips were  _ ‘pretty’ _ .”

Joe turned his face back into the pillow for a moment, processing the night before.    
He had been a bit of a sleep deprived mess from two nights earlier, stressed, and  _ a lot  _ of things had happened in less than twenty four hours.  _ My mind must have short circuited or something.  _ But still, for someone who kept insisting on keeping things  _ ‘professional’ _ , he was doing a poor imitation of it when he was not only falling asleep during a shift, but giving direct compliments to a client.   
  
_ Shit. _ He hesitated to ask, almost afraid of the answer, but his own shift was about to start and he needed to know, “How -” He shifted his weight to lean up onto his elbows, “How did your shift go?”

The question only made Booker’s face turn a pale pink color as his eyes watered, “Oh  _ mon ami _ , you’re so -  _ so fucked _ .” He rested his arms over his knees, clasping his hands together in front of them, “You left, and he wouldn’t look at me the entire time he made his dinner. But then, just before he said he was eating in his room, he grabbed your gum -” Booker had to pause, swiping at the tear at the corner of his left eye, “ _ Mon Dieu _ , he came out an hour later, popping the damn gum for hours.”   
  
Joe tried not to sound as happy about that as he felt, “Really?”   
  
But he should have known there was more, especially with how hard Booker’s shoulders were shaking when he tilted his head forward laughing  _ harder _ , “You - you aren’t going to make it through the week.”    
  
Joe, who usually needed quite some time to fully wake up, felt his whole body tense, “ _ What? _ ”   
  
“He decided to go for a swim, and -” Booker raised his face to Joe’s, “the man wears the smallest speedo I have ever seen.”

Joe sank into the bed slowly, looking away from Booker (who was  _ still _ laughing as he grabbed his toiletries bag for the bathroom down the hall), as he imagined the sight of Nicky in  _ that _ , popping his gum. He was going to need to desperately find a way to keep it casual, and make it seem like neither of those things were a big deal.    
  
But the thought of that round ass, in barely there  _ wet _ fabric -   
  
He groaned as his face fell to the pillow:  _ Fuck. _   
  
  


* * *

_ Nicky’s Room _

_ Five Hours Later  _

Nicky had spent the majority of his time since yesterday, going over paperwork Tom had emailed him for the community program. They were scheduled to have a meeting with the board next week, and Nicky had written out notes, as well practiced  _ exactly _ what he would say in front of everyone during his presentation. Several times over.

When he had woken up that morning, with bleary eyes, he was still clutching the clipboard and surrounded by crumbled up balls of paper.

But it hadn’t just been the work that kept him up most of the night.

Nicky kept swinging between two emotions.

On one end, he was genuinely touched by the fact that Joe looked up things about anxiety, and went out and bought something for him that he thought might help. He couldn’t have known but gum was something that had been suggested for Nicky in therapy when he was a kid (yet it was just one of  _ many _ options, and for some reason not one he carried over to adulthood). Which was interesting, because - it had actually helped last night. He still cycled through some thoughts on an anxious cycle, but he at least hadn’t caused his lips to bleed again.

On the other end though, Nicky worried Joe was trying to tell him what to do. As if maybe he didn’t think Nicky  _ could _ think for himself properly. It was likely a bit of paranoia, and he had tried processing some of it last night during his swim, but the worry was still there the next morning. He wanted Joe to see him a different light  _ if _ that’s how he viewed him, but Nicky wasn’t even sure exactly in  _ what _ way.   
  
He decided that he would try to play it cool today.

That he would  _ not _ mention the _ ‘pretty lips’ _ comment, and allow the warm pool water to help wash away some of the stiffness in his muscles. But  _ if _ he caught Joe’s eyes lingering on his almost naked frame, he wouldn’t exactly object either. 

Nicky decided he had spent enough time working (and sort of hiding away) in his room. He had earned some pool time, and even his emotional pendulum of worry wasn’t going to keep him locked away forever. He gave himself one more glance in his large bathroom mirror and traced some more chapstick over his chapped lips. It helped a little, and figuring he had to go and face Joe at some point, he reached for his towel and the robe, then stepped out into his room. He rubbed Felicia’s belly for good measure, popped some more gum into his mouth, and took one last deep breath. 

Nicky had half expected Joe to be sitting on the kitchen island, or maybe half asleep on the sofa, but instead he was leaning against the open patio doors near the pool. He was looking out towards the water, his back facing Nicky, and without him having noticed him yet, he allowed himself a long look. Watching the way the slight breeze moved over just the hint of curls at the top of his head, and down his bronze skin that looked particularly stunning in sunlight. His arms were folded in front of him, making his biceps look tight, before he raised a small cup to his face. Because he was bearing most of his upper body weight on his shoulder against the door frame, his lower body tilted to the side, and his legs were crossed at the ankles. He was wearing his usual outfit of boots and cargo pants, but the angle showed off his long, muscular body perfectly.   
  
Nicky chewed on his gum harder,  _ and _ quicker, and squeezed the towel closer to his stomach.

A dip in the pool now seemed downright necessary, and still going with his plan of ‘playing it cool’, he casually walked past him.   
  
Joe moved a little to make room for Nicky to glide by, but he kept his eyes forward till he had walked out in the sun from under the shaded stone patio. Only when he knew he could dive into the deep end did he feel there was enough distance for him to be able to look back at Joe who had remained by the doorway. Nicky didn’t turn around completely, merely looked over his shoulder, and saw Joe was wearing sunglasses that hid his dark eyes completely. It made him look hotter than Nicky was prepared for -  _ but two can play at that game. _   
  
He almost wondered if the gum chewing would annoy Joe, and couldn’t help but tease him a little about it. And _ if  _ he happened to do it in a way that caused a mutual effect of desire, then that was just a bonus by this point. Blowing a large bubble in his direction, he let it pop, before tonguing it back into his mouth,  _ slowly _ , “You really like the gum better?”

Though he had made a good effort of appearing indifferent, Joe’s jaw clenched  _ just _ enough for Nicky to notice, before his lips curved into a grin, “ _ Much _ .”

_ Hm _ , but Nicky wasn’t done. Facing the pool he let the towel, and the robe, drop to the ground - and allowed Joe to take in the  _ full  _ view of his body, save the barely there speedo - before diving into the pool arms first. The water definitely helped cool the heat that had been pooling in his belly, and his stiff muscles almost instantly relaxed against the current his body created underneath the surface.    
  
He let himself sink down towards the bottom, floating for a moment, as he finally felt clear headed enough to process some things. Nicky had come back home thinking he would need to push just about anything else aside so he could devote all his attention to the community program, and work on figuring out what he wanted to do next in life. And though obviously he hadn’t expected essentially  _ house arrest _ for months on end -    
  
\- as his lungs demanded he break back through the surface, he realized something else . . .   
  
He quietly glided over to the edge of the pool and reached for the towel he had left behind. 

And right after wiping his wet face, he spotted Joe sitting on a chair under the shaded patio, seemingly focused on a book between his hands.

_. . . Maybe, it won’t be such a boring summer after all. _

* * *

_ One Hour Later . . . _

That man was going to be the death of him.

Joe had thought he’d be able to hide behind a pair of sunglasses, and hopefully Nicky couldn’t feel his eyes roaming over at him - but how was he  _ not  _ supposed to look when he was currently stretched out on a towel on the grass. Lying on his stomach, face down on bent arms, and that round ass  _ teasing _ in his direction.  _ Fuck _ if Joe couldn’t have sworn he purposely gave it a little  _ wiggle _ when he crossed his legs a moment later.   
  
He looked back down to his book, but considering he was still stuck on the same page from ten minutes ago (when Nicky had decided to climb out of the pool after a pretty vigorous swimming session), he decided to switch tactics, and grabbed a pen from his pocket. It did help a little, the pen scraping against the paper creating just enough of a tactile distraction to help glide his hand as he began to swirl incoherent lines along the margins. Joe started imagining some geometric patterns from home, and began to recreate them towards the bottom, before flipping the page to make a better rendition of his mother’s favorite buildings. 

It was likely a little ironic that he was sketching things his mother liked, since she had been the one to get him into art therapy as a teen in the first place. She’d probably even be proud of him for handling his apprehension around the nearby water by doodling now. But even when she inevitably called him later that afternoon, he’d forgo mentioning it. Concerned that if he shared even that little, he’d end up sharing too much - 

“That’s quite good.”   
  
Joe stilled, because even though he had noticed Nicky moving in his peripherals, he hadn’t realized it was to essentially make his way over to  _ him _ . He was doing a really poor job of watching the man if he had managed to approach him so easily, “ - Thanks. Just doodles.”   
  
Nicky, blissfully, had wrapped his towel around his waist and bent down beside him, “It reminds me of some buildings I saw in Morocco.”   
  
Joe was impressed, “Tunisia, actually - but close.”   
  
“Not  _ that _ close,” Nicky stood upright and popped his gum, “there’s a whole ass country between the two of them.”   
  
When Joe chuckled, Nicky looked at him for a moment (maybe he was worried he was laughing  _ at _ him?), so he grinned and finally raised his sunglasses to the top of his head, “Sorry, I was just just thinking you deserve a Mr. Geography award.”   


Nicky’s wet hair allowed several rivets of water to fall along his neck, and Joe willed his eyes not to follow their projected path below his collarbone. At least his smile seemed genuine, and Joe actually didn’t look away - because it was just as pretty as the lips that formed it, “Well, I traveled in my younger years. So that helps.” He pulled one arm behind his back, reaching for his other arm by his side, and leaned over again, just slightly, “Actually, I was wondering what you were reading so intently.”   
  
Joe flipped the book over, revealing the cover of  _ ‘The Collected Poems of Nizar Qabanni’ _ .    
  
If Nicky had any sort of particular opinion about it, he kept it to himself, before giving him a small smile, “I was about to go make lunch - did you want to take a break and have some, too? Or stay out here?”   
  
“Thanks,” Joe closed the book easily, flung the sun glasses on top of them and rose from the chair, “I’ll grab something and meet you back out here in thirty -” He paused when he saw Nicky’s smile falter a bit, but he wasn’t exactly sure why, “ - if you need anything before then of course come find me?”   
  
Nicky nodded and turned to head inside.

It wasn’t until halfway through his lunch, alone in the staff common area, that Joe realized Nicky might have meant having lunch  _ with _ him. By the time Joe walked back outside though, he was back to sunbathing, and this time wearing bluetooth headphones. Not sure if he should say anything or not, Joe resumed his position on the patio, and picked up the book. 

The rest of the shift was spent in relative silence.

* * *

_ June 5th - Thursday _

_ Di Genova Property _

_ Late Afternoon  _

Nile was about to arrive, and Nicky couldn’t wait to see her.   
  
He had obviously told her everything, because who else could he explain the insanity of this week to? And as always, she patiently let him run through his circles, before reminding him to take a few calming breaths. But no video calls, or text chains, could compare to Nille’s boisterous personality and her bright smiles. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, he was there to greet her, and hugged her tightly while he closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, merely dipped his face close to her shoulder, glad she planned on spending the night.    
  
When he did pull back, she beamed up at him, “Well hello to you, too.”   
  
Nicky straightened his back, and gave her a soft smile, “Hi.”   
  
She paused though as she inspected his face, “Have you - stopped chewing on your lips? Not to sound weird, but they look softer?”   
  
Okay, so Nicky hadn’t told her  _ everything _ , “Um, yeah, trying a few new things.”   
  
Nile raised an eyebrow, bumping her shoulder against his, “Like that  _ cup-of-Joe _ ?”   
  
Nicky shook his head, blowing a small bubble out between his lips, before Nile playfully popped it with her finger. They both laughed, her arm looping with his, as she led them inside, “Okay, but Bodyguard Joe  _ is _ still on shift, right?” 

He kept his chin down and gave a small grin, “For another hour.”   
  
Nile curled her other hand around his bicep and chirped, “I wonder if he’d ever save a damsel in distress as dramatically as he saved you.”   
  
That made Nicky laugh along with her, and they easily made their way through the large house, before she swung her overnight bag in the corner of his room and flopped onto his bed. Felicia bounced a little when she did, but managed to curl back into a sleeping position as soon as Nicky settled between them.   
  
“So,” Nile started, “about that graduation party next weekend.”   
  
Nicky buried his face against the mattress for a moment, before turning just enough to reveal exactly one eye, and the corner of his mouth, “ _ Please _ tell me your kidding.”   
  
Nile sunk down beside him, giving a fake whimper, “Oh come on Nicky, please? I’m proud of you, you  _ deserve _ it.”    
  
“Can - could it just be you and me, Nile, please?”   
  
Nile’s eyes focused on his expression, maybe even trying to discern if she should rescind the offer after all, but then her lips curved as she leaned her cheek into her palm, “Except, if we leave this place, it wouldn’t just be you and I, would it?”   
  
_ Cazzo _ , he hadn’t really thought about that, but - “I guess yeah, depending on when we go? I do have some different people arriving tomorrow for the weekend.”   
  
“Oh, so, no Joe if we go like next Friday night?” Nicky shook his head, and Nile rolled onto her back, “Darnit there goes my plan then. Though drinks with you next weekend, to raise a toast  _ to _ you, would still be fun.”   
  
Curious, he raised his upper body till he was leaning on his elbows, “What plan?”   
  
Nile relaxed her hands on her flat stomach, and stared up at him, “Figured if you’d have some liquid courage in you, things would move along, since you do get pretty flirty with a drink in hand.”   
  
_ I’ve been flirting _ , was Nicky’s immediate thought,  _ well at least physically _ . With looks, and close proximity, and wearing the skimpiest collection of suits he had. He hoped Joe would notice him sunbathing more than normal (which usually left him looking like half a lobster, except he had insisted Nicky top off with sunscreen every couple of hours with a brand he had purchased himself). And though normally he stuck to whatever was playing on the local radio when he was lying there, he had downloaded the audio version of the book of poetry Joe was reading yesterday, and used his bluetooth headphones to hopefully learn more about him.    
  
Yes, Nicky  _ knew _ how to flirt physically.    
Out of all the things that gave him anxiety, his body and sexuality was the only thing that didn’t - but  _ actual discussion and conversation _ , with someone like Joe who read Middle Eastern poetry, and drew buildings of Tunisia in his free time?  _ No, _ he couldn’t be all that interested in non profit charity paperwork, or the menus Nicky was currently planning (or so Nicky had convinced himself). And worse, the prospect of him even asking about what he was up to in his room half the day felt anxiety inducing. It was almost easier to simply grow more and more silent around him.    
  
But Nicky did know when a man was sexually interested, knew when they were checking him out, yet the signals from Joe were a mixed bag. Anytime he was certain Joe  _ was _ , he pulled back, and Nicky reminded himself he was here for one thing - a job.  _ Just a job. _

Nicky must have gone quiet too long, because Nile slowly curled her fingers over his shoulder blade, “Want to head to the pool for a bit?”   
  
He nodded, giving a faint smile.

Partly certain a dip would help, but also a little hesitant to have to say goodbye to Joe till the morning (with his shift almost over). 

Worse, the weekend shift his Dad had hired were arriving sometime tomorrow, so he didn’t even know how much more time he’d have with Joe before he’d be leaving for the weekend. And it made him sadder than he had realized, or was ready to share with Nile.

* * *

_ Main Living Room _

_ Half an hour later . . . _

Booker had mentioned that during the night before, Nicky mostly stayed in his room, but at some point had come out to ask him about the kind of books they were required to read at TOG. Joe seemed just as confused as Booker said  _ he _ had been, when he had talked about the basic training manuals, and Nicky had quietly gone on to ask what Joe _ ‘normally liked to read’.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I hope you don’t mind - I basically just told him art stuff, like poetry, and classics.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “No,” Joe pondered, “I don’t mind.” _ _   
_ _   
_ He had half expected for Nicky to ask him more about it today, but he seemed to mainly focus on lounging in his room, and Joe chose not to read too much into it after all. He was likely merely curious about the guy who was tasked to keep him safe.  _ Nothing more, nothing less. _ _   
_ _   
_ Tomorrow, Andy, Quynh and the new recruit, Lykon were driving over. They had arrived late the night before, and were pretty much sleeping off the jet lag today. But  _ had  _ already called to check in with both Booker and Joe to get a preliminary run down before they’d be arriving around lunch the next day (right in the middle of Joe’s shift). He had  _ almost _ started to ask for them to come  _ after _ his shift was over with Nicky, but then realized how that might come across, and stopped himself. 

Maybe a weekend away would be a good thing.

Get some space. And clear his head a bit.

“Hey Joe!”   
  
Joe recognized the voice, and offered Nile a polite smile as she walked over to him in the living room, “Hi Nile - how are you?”   
  
Nile was likely wearing a swimsuit underneath the white towel wrapped around her. Stopping near the coffee table, she shrugged her bare shoulder, “Well no drunk drivers about to hit me, so you know,  _ good _ .”   
  
He appreciated her sense of humor over the whole thing especially since she had understandably been pretty shaken in the moment over it. He easily shared in her laughter, until it died down and she tilted her head up at him, “Say, did you guys ever figure out who was driving that car?”

Nicky, whose robe was for once tied closed around his frame, had just stepped down into the space. Joe wasn’t sure if he was close enough to hear, but he felt guilty over the lie all the same, “Sorry, no - seems Booker wrote down one of the number wrong.” 

Nicky had just finished walking over to stand beside Nile, but she was looking up at Joe for a moment, almost like she was debating the truth in his words. Either he managed to pass her silent examination, or she wanted to avoid accusing him of lying in front of Nicky. She shifted a little closer to him, then looked back to Joe, “We’re about to go swim, want to join us?”   
  
Nicky’s eyes widened, so it certainly hadn’t been his idea, but he kept his gaze focused on Nile. Which was likely a good thing, because he didn’t want Nicky to get the wrong idea by the cloud that washed over him when it came to the water - “Sorry, can’t.” 

Luckily Nile didn’t ask him to specify if he meant  _ ‘can’t’ _ as in couldn’t swim, or  _ ‘can’t’ _ as in against TOG on job protocols. He really didn’t know if he could lie to Nicky twice in five minutes.   
  
“That’s a shame,” Nile replied casually, before pulling Nicky towards the patio, “I bet you’d look nice in one of Nicky’s speedos.” 

Nicky looked like his ears were going pink, and Joe tried to stifle his laugh at Nile’s sense of humor - more to spare Nicky’s nerves, than anything else. As soon as they had reached the pool, Joe stepped out to take his usual spot on the stone patio about twenty feet away. He was still smiling as he leaned back into the chair, though Nicky was doing his best not to look at him.

* * *

“You are killing me here.”   
  
Nile splashed a little water in his direction, and continued to tease him mercilessly, “Sorry Nicky, but I’m a little confused how you haven't managed to get Mr. Universe underneath you yet.”   
  
Nicky splashed water at her, and raised a finger to his lips, “Nile  _ dammit  _ \- he’s right there.” He glanced over the top of her head, and saw Joe’s stuck in a different book than the one he was reading yesterday. He moved a little closer to her and let his arms float out in front of him, “Besides, I’d rather be underneath  _ him _ .”    
  
She gave him a dramatic eyebrow wiggle, “Yes,  _ please _ .”

He only rolled his eyes though, refusing to indulge her further.

Mostly because he was afraid she’d only get louder, or make more jokes directly to Joe’s face  _ again _ .

Reaching around her, he grabbed the sunscreen bottle and started uncapping it to put some on his shoulders, but she gave him a surprised expression, “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you put on sunscreen before.”   
  
“I have,” Nicky smiled, “Just usually before I head out - but Joe sort of insists I make sure to put it on more often because of the pool water and all that.” He had just squeezed a small bit to swipe on his face, when he realized Nile was staring at him, “What?”   
  
“ _ ‘Joe says’ _ ?” Nile raised her hands to her mouth, like she was trying not to squeal, but her giggles did escape, “What  _ else _ does he tell you to do Nicky?”

He shook his head lightly as he smirked, and dropped his hands in the water to let any remaining sunscreen wash off of his skin. He allowed the conversation to drop, but only because he got distracted when he saw Booker step out onto the patio. That meant they’d be switching shifts soon, and he hadn’t really had a chance to have even one full conversation with Joe that day.

* * *

Joe was still sketching a new design in the second book he had bought the other day, when Booker walked out. He took a seat right next to him, and peered over to see what he was up to, “Looks nice.”   
  
“Thanks,” he managed a grin, but was still feeling a bit miffed with the lie from earlier, “Nothing really to report, except Nile is spending the night.” 

He pointed over to the pool with the pencil, and Booker glanced over, “Good, he seems to smile more when she’s around.”   
  
Joe looked up, and sure enough they were laughing about something. It was bittersweet though, because as lovely as he looked doing it, Joe wanted to be the one causing it. He refocused on sketching some vague landscape scene, and avoided Booker’s silent looks.   
  
But shortly after, their laughter grew louder as they began to splash more water at each other.  _ An innocent game between friends _ , Joe tried to tell his mind, but when Nile yelped, and coughed around a mouthful of water . . . the pencil he was holding snapped in half.   
  
Booker noticed right away, and moved close, a soft hand helping him to unclench his hand, “Hey -  _ mon ami _ .” Joe’s chest felt tight, and his fingers flexed against Booker’s, “ _ Yusuf. _ ”   
  
Joe let out a shuddering breath, but managed to pull himself back to the present. 

And when his weary eyes rose up to Booker’s, his friend curled his fingers around his wrist, “Go lie down, I got this.”   
  
He only nodded, and neither said anything else. 

When he pushed his chair back, it scraped against the stone underneath the legs.

Joe was certain he could feel Nicky’s eyes on him, but he managed to move quickly enough that he doubted he could see his thousand yard long stare.

Later he’d wake up refreshed, and would walk into the main living area to both check in on Booker, and say goodnight to Nicky (though he didn’t admit that last part to anybody, much less himself). Sure enough, Nicky  _ had _ seemed to notice his abrupt walk off and when Booker said he needed to go grab something from another room, quietly asked if Joe was  _ ‘okay’. _   
  
He lied to Nicky again when he answered,  _ ‘yes’. _

  
  


* * *

_ June 6th - Friday _

_ Di Genova Property _

It was almost noon, and Joe had yet to see Nicky. 

Booker said he went to bed shortly after Joe had left around midnight, so he wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t left his room yet. Though maybe Nile and he had stayed up much later? Really he was glad Nicky had someone in his life that he could talk to. He just also wanted to see him one last time before he had to leave for the weekend.   
  
He scrubbed his face with his hands and groaned:  _ a weekend. You’re only going to be gone till Sunday night, get a grip.  _ _   
_   
“Look who finally made it.”   
  
Joe immediately lowered his arms in front of him, just in time to watch Andy, Quynh and Lykon step down into the living room. Seeing the two women was like meeting with family, and Booker got out of the way, just in time for Joe to pick up Andy first and lift her off the ground. They both chuckled, and when he put her back on her feet, she rested slim hands on his tense shoulders, “You look great.”   
  
Andy, without missing a beat, teased, “You look okay.”   
  
“Thank you,” he grinned right back. Out of everyone at TOG he knew Andy the longest. She had come into his life when he was at a crossroads, when things could have really gone in a different direction. He’d always have a special place in his heart for her.

Though Quynh, her wife, was a close second. When she walked over, she already lifted her arms up to him, and he gave her the same greeting he had given Andy. Though she giggled for him to put her down before he’d  _ ‘drop her’ _ . 

“Never,” he quipped, but did place her down gently on her flat shoes.    
  
“Joe,” Andy placed a hand on Lykon’s shoulder, “I know you two met over video chat already, but let me reintroduce Lykon.” 

And there he was. His replacement down the line.    
A young man, with a bright smile, and the aura of enthusiasm of any first year recruits.

Joe extended his hand, and grinned, “Hey man, I’m glad you’re here.”   


“Thanks, Joe,” Lykon took his hand, giving it a firm shake, “I’m definitely excited to be on the team.”   


He technically had been training with Andy and Quynh for the last year. Fighting techniques, evasive maneuvers, combat first aid training, weapons,  _ the works _ . Really the shadowing he’d be doing here was more a technicality for insurance purposes than anything else. Andy was nothing if not thorough, and Joe had no doubt in his mind that Lykon was as prepared as he could be to take over his position.   
  
Though Andy did suggest that Joe and Booker could maybe stay behind one weekend or two down the line, and give Lykon some sparring lessons sometime (and the rundown on being Booker’s partner). It had been a bit of a painful reminder of his own impending crossroads that he was facing once again in life, but he had agreed to it months ago, and would simply need to coordinate with Lucio about possibly using some space in the house for it.   
  
Considering how much he was dragging his feet about leaving for the weekend, the thought of possibly sticking around sometime under the guise of it being for  _ Lykon _ might actually be a good thing . . .   


Booker knew that the three of them would still need to sit down with Lucio, and Mia, for check ins, “ - But I did take the liberty of making you three lunch before Joe and I head out.”   
  
Quynh raised her pressed hands close to her chin, “You didn’t have to do that Booker -”   
  
Andy wrapped her arm around Quynh’s waist, “Speak for yourself darling, I’m starving - where to?”   
  
Booker tipped his head towards the servant’s wing door nearby, and began to lead them over. He held the door open for them, but paused after they passed through when he noticed Joe wasn’t following, “You coming?”   
  
Joe nodded, but waved over at him, “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car in a bit.”   
  
Booker wasn’t dumb, and chuckled,  _ ‘Tell Nicky I said ‘bye’’ _ , before he let the door close.

* * *

_ Nicky’s Room _

Nicky stirred when he heard the short knock on his door.   
  
He almost thought he had imagined it, but when he heard the second one, he lifted his head from the pillow and realized there was someone on the other side. Looking over he saw that Nile was still asleep with her back to him, and he quietly shifted from the bed until he could climb out. He must have taken too long, because by the time he had opened the door, no one was there.   
  
Nicky leaned his head out into the hallway, looking left, then right - and spotted none other than Joe walking several feet away. Trying not to be too loud, he hurriedly stepped out, closed the door, and jogged on bare feet to catch up, “Hey - “   
  
Joe stopped suddenly, but thank gosh Nicky managed to pause before running into him. When he turned they were standing fairly close, and Nicky was grateful he was wearing an oversized pajama set, so hopefully the man wouldn’t be able to tell the effect he was having on him.    
  
“Oh hey,” Joe took a half step back, and shoved his hands in his pockets, “I just wanted to let you know that Booker and I are heading out, and that your weekend crew are here.”   
  
_ ‘You’re leaving now?’ _ was what he  _ wanted  _ to say. Had he known it would be this early, he wouldn’t have had that  _ Mandalorian _ marathon with Nile into the early hours of the morning. But all he managed was: “Thanks.”    
  
There was a moment of pause between them, when Nicky suddenly recalled the package he had made for Joe (and for Booker, so no one would think he was singling him out for any particular reason) late last night. He glanced back up at him, “Uh, follow me to the kitchen first?”   
  
Joe looked like he was pleasantly surprised by whatever Nicky might have been up to, and nodded, quietly walking behind him. Once there, Nicky opened the pantry and pulled out two small paper boxes, tied with a twine ribbon. He held the packages between his hands, and stared at the bow he had knotted at the top as he explained, “I packed a few things for your trip back home. Just some snacks, uh, almond butter covered almonds, and dried fruit trail mix. And um, some organic string cheese - though,  _ crap _ -” He finally looked up to Joe’s face, “Are you vegan? I could switch that out for something else?”   
  
But Joe looked down at him with a broad smile, before reaching for the boxes, “No, I’m not vegan.” He shook his head a little as he pulled them close, “This - this is really nice, thank you Nicky.”    


Nicky looked down, and shrugged a shoulder back at him, “Just a  _ ‘thank you’ _ for all the gum you bought I guess.”

Joe chuckled, promising to  _ ‘return with more’ _ if Nicky was nice to his friends.

For some reason, even though they said short goodbyes -  _ and _ knowing he would miss him more than he had thought he would - when Nicky climbed back into bed beside Nile, he turned on his side, and smiled as he fell back asleep. 

* * *

**NOTES:** eh? Eh?? What y'all think??  
Any guesses as to why no one knows who the restricted car belongs to?  
Or what's going on with Joe and impending retirement?  
Or, why Nicky needed therapy even as a kid?? Hmmmmm ~  
  
Don't worry, all will be revealed eventually, promise!  
Next week, will be one more character building chapter BUT we'll be moving into the angst teaser portion by the end of it - bum bum bum <<;  
As always, kudos and bookmarks feed me - and let me know what y'all think of the chapter! Besides the fun sexual tension, my close second fave are the friendship dynamics. I want to give both Booker and Nile "Best Friend Awards" <3  
  
  



	4. Second Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Nicky learn a little more about one another, but a new visitor shows up that threatens their new bond . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone :) Thank you so much for all the kudos/comments on the last chapter <3 We really do appreciate all the love and support!
> 
> And hey - remember how like Ch. 2 was barely above 4k? Haha, good times, amiright?  
> This one is just under 16k _sorryyy_ . . . we basically had _so_ much we wanted to pack in in this first "act" if you will, before we had someone arrive at the end that sort of throws a wrench into the delicate new bond forming between Joe and Nicky (yeah, no spoilers, you'll have to read till the end). But basically, you're going to be like, "Oh great, here we go - "
> 
> How the heck we ended up with 46k of background/character building in this fic, I have no idea haha.  
> BUT starting with the next chapter, we'll be featuring more angst, stripping away some of those layers we've been building up, and not necessarily relying on going day by day in the timeline ;) It'll all lead up to a mid-climax that throws everything up in the air. So thanks for your patience as we built up - and enjoy the last chapter of adorableness and sweetness, because starting next time, the trajectory is angst, and _more angst_ . . .
> 
> And lastly, but most importantly, please a give a warm thank you with either kudos (or love to her [tumblr](http://shadowhannibad.tumblr.com)) for my co creator, Luz Clarita. Not only did she come up with half the plot points, but she's my amazing beta! Normally, I send her a second or a third draft to scan over before I post (to make sure I included everything we wanted to in that chapter). BUT THIS WEEK the poor woman had to beta a _first draft_ of 16k words folks. Let me tell you - she is the _only_ reason I was not late in getting this chapter up! 
> 
> But alright, alright, let's get to it!!

* * *

**“The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets” - Laura Miller**

* * *

_ June 9th - Monday _

_ Gas Station  _

Joe dimly registered Booker's car pulling off the exit ramp, and he groggily shifted in the passenger seat as the overhead street lights rolled over the car. He glanced out the window, but didn't recognize the area and pointed out as much as he sank further into the seat hoping to rest his eyes a moment longer.

Booker explained it was just a quick pit stop, before parking the car at the pump, but there was no way Joe was going back to sleep with the fluorescent lights of the gas station invading the small space. He rubbed his hand over his face, willing himself to wake up a bit before stretching his legs as best as he could, "How much longer?"

"About twenty more minutes," Booker who had already reached for his wallet, paused before grabbing the car handle, "Are you going to make it for your shift?"

Joe could hear the smile in his voice without even looking over, and wearily nodded before leaning his head against the window, "It's four thirty in the morning Booker, you're like the only person who would be  _ this _ awake at  _ this _ hour."

"Well, to be fair, I'm usually awake at this time, so that helps," Joe could hear him opening the car door, but he stopped for a moment, "I guess I just figured you'd maybe be excited to get back to Nicky, that's all."

Joe's eyes shot open, and he quickly turned his head towards his friend, who's pursed lips implied he knew  _ exactly _ what he was doing by teasing him like this. He gave him a soft grin, refusing to fall for the bait, "I am not indulging your fantasies. There's nothing happening there."

"Yet."

Joe stretched his upper body a little, "What?"

"There's nothing happening there  _ yet _ ," Booker smirked.

But Joe gave a simple shrug, "And there won't be - " 

Booker rolled his eyes and gave him a dismissive wave, before asking which one Joe preferred: to pump the gas, or grab some snacks for the road. Joe chose the latter, and they both stepped out of the car before he asked Booker if he wanted anything in particular. Once he gave him his short list, Joe headed inside, and tried not to look too miserable to be there. Just because he wanted to be back in bed, didn't mean he wanted to scare the locals with a scowl as he huffed through the aisles.

Grabbing a small basket, he filled it with the supplies requested, then rummaged for something he might like for himself. Frankly though, he already knew that none of the gas station food would taste as good as the package Nicky had made on Friday. The items of food were much appreciated on the ride home by both Booker and him, and finished in the first half hour of the trip. Joe had made a mental note to ask Nicky where he had purchased them from, because save for the wrapped cheese sticks, the other baggies were clear and without labels. 

Joe settled on a protein bar and a bottle of water before heading towards the checkout area, but he finally cracked a real smile when he saw all the bubble gum options near the register. He  _ had _ planned on buying some when he went to go get groceries for the week after his shift, but since the opportunity presented itself . . . he reached for a large multi pack and shoved it into the basket before he walked up to the cashier. 

Once back in the car, Joe rummaged through the bag to hand Booker his things, before taking out his own. The plastic bag was still weighed down by the pack of gum, and easily identifiable even with the white material, “A little something for Nicky?”   
  
Joe didn’t respond, save for a short dismissive head shake, and buckled himself in. 

And Booker chuckled as he started up the car, “Right, but  _ nothing’s  _ happening between you two.”

* * *

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Thirty Minutes Later . . .  _

It was only five in the morning, but Booker and Joe had arrived early so they could have an informal meeting with Andy, Quynh, and Lykon in the staff common area over some breakfast. He was definitely still tired, but the potential of getting to sit down with his friends at length, and then resettle into the room with Booker before his shift started, helped wake him up a little. When Booker and Joe walked into the staff wing from the parking area, he noticed a few early risers sitting on a table towards the right, and they greeted each other silently before returning to their bowls of cereal. But towards the left, at a larger table, were Andy, Quynh and Lykon and they waved them over, “Morning.”   
  
Booker sat down first, and Joe beside him, “Morning, guys.”   
  
Quynh offered to get them some breakfast, but Joe explained they’d eaten on the way, “ - Besides, I want to hear how the weekend went.”   
  
Lykon actually spoke up first with a short shrug, “Pretty easy? He didn’t go anywhere, but sort of lounged in the pool or the living room area. Mostly reading, or working on some sort of presentation.”   
  
“Presentation?” Booker asked before Joe could.   
  
“Good luck trying to find out what it is,” Quynh chirped, “Every time I got too close, he would casually slip the papers into a folder and change the subject.”

That did peak Joe’s curiosity, but he saved it as just another question to ask him about later, “Otherwise, how was he in general?”   
  
Quynh tilted her head, “Oh, you mean, like his general emotional state?”   
  
Joe realized how it might have come across now, because he had never asked about a previous client like this. He could  _ feel _ Booker grinning over at him, “Uh, yes?”

Quynh leaned forward on her elbows, face resting inside the palms of her hands, “Or do you just want to know how many times he asked about you?”   
  
Joe groaned when Booker laughed, and though Lykon tried to stifle it, his own chuckle still emerged. Only Andy limited herself to a dry huff around a mouthful of toast, before Joe managed to sigh, “I - don’t need to know that.”   
  
“Know what?” Derek interrupted when he approached their table.   
  
Joe didn’t even bother looking up, already anticipating Booker’s tease beside him, “How long it takes for Nicky and Joe to realize they like each other - we’re going to get a bet going. Want to join in?”   
  
Derek raised his hands with a smile, “No, I’m alright -” He took a seat between Joe and Lykon, and the smile faded soon enough when he looked behind his shoulder to make sure no staff were close by. The mood around the table instantly soured, “I have an update finally, about the car.”   
  
Joe could feel his shoulders tensing, but luckily, Derek didn’t drag it out, “I hate to say it, but I got absolutely nothing. Seems it’s  _ ‘above my paygrade’ _ , and they told me to shred my request form.”   


_ Fuck. _ Joe could feel his hands curling into fists on his knees, and he looked down at the table trying to filter through scenarios as to why a U.S. Marshall would be denied access to this; but he waited for Andy to ask, she was the boss, “So, inside job still seems the most likely then -” It wasn’t really a question, more like a statement.   
  
And Derek did absolutely _ nothing  _ for Joe’s nerves when he solemnly agreed, “The only thing I know is that the car isn’t within the WITSEC program, and at this point, I can’t really fathom any other government agency being involved besides the DEA. Somebody is blocking me from accessing the system  _ within _ the DEA registry list.”   
  
Lykon gave a small whistle at the implication, but still voiced it out loud as well, “So, Nicky is surrounded by DEA agents on the property, and one of them might have tried to run him over last week?”   
  
Joe could feel the defensiveness crawl over his back, an angry, ugly feeling that clawed up along his spine. Here he thought as long as he could keep him safe inside the house, everything would be alright - but now, there was a potential that  _ inside _ was just as dangerous? He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push down against the need to interrogate every single agent, with his  _ fists _ if need be -    
  
“Joe -”    
  
It was Andy’s voice that cut through the thought, and he wearily looked over to her. He didn’t say anything but listened when she tipped her head to the kitchen behind her, and silently agreed to follow her. Booker, Quynh, Lykon and Derek remained behind, but in a way that was better. It was bad enough that Andy could read him this well. She leaned her long, thin frame against the countertop, and balanced her hands along the edge, “We’ll keep him safe, you know that, right?”   
  
Joe felt some of the anger abate around his upper back, but the feeling had run too deep for him to release it completely. It gave him more of an edge to his voice than he had intended, “We don’t even know what we’re keeping him safe from.”   
  
It was like trying to defend yourself from an invisible entity. Something lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any minute.  _ But - _ “What about Lucio? Are we going to tell him about any of this?”   
  
Andy gave a quick glance behind her, still seeing the four of them talking at the table, before looking back at him, “I haven’t asked Derek about it yet. But look, his focus will be keeping his Dad safe, and ours, will be keeping Nicky safe.”   
  
Joe nodded in agreement because really what else was there to do? Surely they could all keep an eye out for someone who behaved strangely, or exhibited questionable interest in Nicky’s whereabouts, but for now, they would need to go on as if they didn’t know anything. In a way, they had the upper hand by having access to the property twenty four seven, but that could change at a moment’s notice if one of the agents suspected they were on to them. Joe had to try to accept reason, over the emotion to want to take Nicky far away from here, and see that keeping this between themselves and Derek was the only logical plan they had.   
  
“By the way, have you called your mother yet?”   
  
Andy really knew how to get straight to the point when she wanted to know something, but that didn’t mean he’d hand the information over that easily, “What?”   
  
“Your mother, did you tell her you’re coming home soon?” she inspected his body language, likely seeing the concern, and worry, over Nicky falter under her penetrative stare. She was obviously trying to distract him, but why she thought talking about his impending retirement would help ease his stress he couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

But he also knew she wouldn’t give up, she would just stand there.  _ Waiting _ .

Finally, he balked, and mumbled through his reply, “No, I didn’t want to get her hopes up.”   
  
“Still trying to find a way to avoid going home?” she guessed correctly.   
  
He hesitated to admit it, but he hadn’t even explained it to Booker. In a way it was a relief to confess to someone, “A little bit.”   
  
“You’ve been avoiding it for a while,” she pressed off the counter, “might be good to at least visit for a few weeks.”   
  
“Is that an order, doctor?” he tried to joke, but his face refused to smile giving away his true feelings at the idea.   
  
She reached her hand to curl it over his shoulder, and countered, “Just a command, soldier.”   


Even though none of them had ever served in the military, they were no less a unit, Andy carrying the air of any competent commanding officer. And when she patted his shoulder, silently encouraging him to listen to her, he took it to heart,  _ truly _ .   
  
She went to go sit back down at the table, while Joe took another moment to compose himself. He rubbed his hands over his face, fully awake now, before heading over himself. They would go over the weekend in more detail, discuss ideas on coordinating meetings with Derek for potential sharing of information, and finally, Booker and him would take their things to their room.

When it was time for him to report to his shift an hour later, Joe was an odd mix of excited and worried. The concern for Nicky’s safety had buried itself deep, and he willed some of the tension to seep out of him - if only not to make the man nervous. Nicky already leaned heavily towards anxiety, and the last thing Joe wanted was to add to it. He resolved he would do everything he could do to ensure that Nicky never knew any of this. It would be a big secret to carry, one that would likely weigh heavily, but he’d do it. For Nicky, he’d put on a brave face, and reasoned to himself that he would just have to keep an even closer eye on him.    
  
When Joe stepped through the staff wing doors, into the main living area, he was pleasantly surprised to see Nicky already in the kitchen. His back was to him and he was wearing the same pastel blue striped pajamas Joe had seen him in on Friday. When he heard his heavy boots step closer on the polished concrete floors, Nicky looked over his shoulder, and gave him such a warm smile that he almost paused midstep, “Hi, Joe - how was your weekend?”   
  
Even though he hated lying to Nicky, hated the secrets, Joe also was desperate to keep that smile on his face. He sat down at the kitchen island, and hoped his own broad grin masked the truth. 

“Uneventful.”

* * *

Nicky was more of a morning person naturally, but too many late nights around Friday’s impending meeting at the community center, had messed with his natural sleeping habits. But, surprisingly, he  _ had _ managed a decent night’s sleep last night. He actually felt  _ rested _ when he rolled out of bed that morning, and looked forward to enjoying the quietness of the sunrise from the stone patio. It was in the mornings, when no one needed him in the moment, that allowed him to engage in reflective introspection without feeling guilty for taking the time to do it. 

He stepped outside, the air still feeling a little wet as the sun rose along the horizon, and watched the dawn push out the blue colors of the sky. Nicky contemplated about the weekend, and how nice his weekend crew were, but still, he mostly looked forward to Joe’s imminent return. As much as he told himself not to get too attached, not to allow himself to think about Joe at all while he was away, Nicky’s mind tended to wander over the previous week on a loop. Five days, of twelve hour shifts, full of memories already - 

When the air began to warm his face, he decided to head back inside towards the kitchen and wait for Joe to arrive. He didn’t want to be obvious about how much he’d enjoy him being back, but Joe was kind, and the thought of greeting him only casually didn’t sit right either. Nicky knew he was  _ basically  _ staff - and he  _ had _ had some ill fated casual hook ups with staff during his travels abroad that _ really _ should have soured him at the idea of ever trying  _ that _ again - but whatever feelings he felt when he thought of Joe, none of them came with warning bells.   
  
He worried about being too anxious for Joe, or possibly boring him with details about things that didn’t interest him. But the idea of something potentially happening in the future between them, didn’t make him want to run in the other direction like it  _ should  _ have. Though still, he couldn’t indulge it. A casual encounter with a staff somewhere in a different country was one thing. He knew he’d never see them again. But, with Joe? He would be around for a while. How would they be able to keep it professional afterwards? No, it made more sense not to allow himself to even consider it. He could enjoy his company, heck, even flirt and tease, but nothing more.   


Nicky had just turned around, ready to reach for a cup from the cabinet, when he heard the staff door open from across the room. He looked behind him, at the sight of Joe walking towards him, and he couldn’t help but greet him warmly. He had missed him more than he had thought he would over the weekend, “Hi, Joe - how was your weekend?”   


He settled onto the usual barstool at the island and grinned, “Uneventful.” Nicky turned back towards the cabinets, figuring no news was good news, and was just about to resume making his morning cup of coffee, when Joe inquired, “I’m surprised you’re already awake. Couldn’t sleep?”   
  
“Oh no, I - actually slept quite good, thank you,” Nicky pondered sharing how he slept better in general lately, but maybe Joe would read into it and think it had to do with him being around, and Nicky was not ready to consider that option at length; surely it was just the sensory therapy of the pool, heck, maybe even the gum, but not  _ Joe _ . Besides, he did genuinely enjoy these quiet mornings, and just because Joe  _ happened  _ to be awake at the same hour - and sort of confined to keep Nicky company - it certainly had  _ nothing _ to do with his decision to enjoy the sunrise from the kitchen and not his bedroom.  _ Certainly not _ . “Uh - I was going to make myself breakfast, did you want some coffee?”   
  
“No, thanks. I don’t drink it.”   
  
He said it so casually that Nicky’s wide eyes now staring back at him again, likely seemed like an over reaction. But it just genuinely surprised him, “ _ Ever _ ?”   
  
“Not really - “ as if his body was protesting his decision, he started to yawn, and he cupped his mouth before rubbing his hand over his face once.   
  
Nicky found it both incredibly endearing, and too easy an opportunity to tease him just a  _ smidge _ , “You should really try it sometime, just to help you wake up easier?” 

Joe rolled his shoulders back, and offered, “I’ll drink your cup for you - “   
  
“What?”   
  
Joe’s smirk faded a little, and he tipped his head, “Might help with the anxiety? Sorry is that - should I have not suggested that?” 

Nicky knew plenty about how caffeine could exacerbate anxiety, but at the end of the day, his brain tended to run on two modes: _ always ‘on’, or extremely tired _ . The caffeine helped with the times when his body was exhausted from the work his brain put his central nervous system through. And yet, here Joe was - who didn’t even drink coffee - offering to take his for him? He wondered if it was his subtle way of suggesting he try the tea blends Joe preferred. Nicky should have felt annoyed about it, reminded him that he could perfectly choose whatever he wanted to drink,  _ but - _ “Um no, I mean - you can suggest whatever.” He tried to sound casual about it, even turned around so Joe hopefully couldn’t read his face, but surely the tone in his voice gave away the broad smile as he reached for two cups, “You can try my blend, and I’ll make myself tea this morning.”   
  
“Fair,” Joe chuckled, and Nicky made quick work of it.    
  
Joe went on to ask him how his weekend went with his friends. And just like Joe’s, it was fairly uneventful. Quynh and Lykon worked the day shift, while Andy picked up nights, and though he did enjoy their company - especially Quynh’s - his mind inevitably shifted to the time on his phone and feeling like the weekend dragged on forever. Though of course he didn’t mention that particular detail to Joe. When he turned around with the two cups in hand, he already saw Joe pulling a pack of gum out and placing it on the island, “Deal’s a deal - you were nice to my friends, so there you go.”   
  
Nicky shook his head, and rolled his eyes, but otherwise merely sat the cup of coffee closer to Joe, while he reached for the gum. He definitely was not going to tell him that he had almost run out of some - and sure, he could have merely gone and got his own - but it did feel nice that Joe followed through with something he said he would do. It felt nice to be thought of, period. 

Joe raised his cup between them, a sort of toast-like gesture, which Nicky mimicked with his own, before they both lifted their drinks to their mouths. In a way, it sort of was like they were finally having that drink that Nicky had wanted a week ago, but he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on that idea. Relish in the  _ feeling  _ of it, but remain silent as he sipped the warm liquid quietly . . .    
  
Really the tea blend tasted horrible, and if Joe’s face was any indication, the coffee didn’t fare much better on his end either. But both seemed to be determined to finish their drinks, and tried to avoid each other’s gaze. Grinning and bearing it, so the other wouldn’t feel bad.

The rest of their day together would be mostly Nicky lounging in the pool, leaning against the edge and feeling comfortable enough to ask what books Joe was reading that week. And at some point, they managed to exchange a full list of the various countries they had been to, and counted no less than fifty six between them. Somehow, it was beginning to feel less intimidating to talk to Joe, though Nicky couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes still lingered on his form when he took a  _ moment _ too long to cover up his wet body stepping onto the stone patio.   


_ But for now _ , as Nicky looked over the rim of the cup, pretending to still be drinking - he allowed himself a long stare of Joe sitting across from where he was standing. His hand was curved around the warm cup, his fingers every now and then tracing along the smooth ceramic, and making Nicky wonder what those fingertips would feel like over his skin. Joe was looking out past the open patio doors and seemingly enjoying the sun warming the air that filtered inside. Nicky had hoped it would bring him the same sort of peace it did for him, but when Joe likely didn’t realize he was being watched, Nicky could see the way his muscles flexed along his forearm. The fingers that had gently held the cup tightening, and his shoulders looking uncomfortable. He wanted to ask Joe if everything was okay, or if there was something on his mind, but unlike Nicky - Joe seemed so assured when it came to conversation. Surely if there was something he wanted to talk about, he’d do it.   
  
Maybe he was just reading too much into it. Both hoping, and dreading, the idea that maybe he was the cause of whatever was going on with Joe.    
  
He turned to look out at the sun pushing out the last remnants of the night sky, and quietly finished his tea.    


* * *

_ June 10th - Tuesday _

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Lunchtime _

Nicky was in the kitchen, just pulling out the tray of dried fruit mix he had made, when he heard Joe step into the main living area. He had just finished his own lunch, and was now reporting back for his shift, but paused when he saw Nicky place the tray on the stove top,“Wait, you made these?”   
  
Joe moved closer, almost directly beside him as he seemed to take in the smell of the various fruits aromas wafting up from the heat. Frankly Nicky didn’t think it was all that impressive, but figured it would be weird if he didn’t at least answer his question, “Uh, yeah?” He pulled off the oven mitts and casually dropped them onto the counter, “It’s not too hard, cut up some fruits, and sprinkle with seasonings, bake - “   
  
Joe stood upright and smiled down at him, “Well, it was delicious - “   
  
“Thanks -” Nicky was trying not to notice the way the edges of his eyes crinkled when he smiled that. He looked down, trying to distract himself by picking at one of the pieces, and sort of pushing it over to another, “I - I like making stuff in the kitchen, the whole culinary school thing, I guess.”   
  
Joe leaned against the counter, folding his hands before him, and catching Nicky’s eye. But the move did absolutely nothing to help Nicky’s sensual thoughts with the way it stretched his shirt along his muscular arms, “Oh, is that where you graduated from?”   
  
He glanced back down, pretending he needed to shift things around on the tray as it cooled, “Um - yes.”   
  
“So, what are your plans then?” Joe seemed genuinely curious, and it felt nice to be asked - his own Dad hadn’t even inquired, “Are you opening up your own restaurant?”

Nicky’s head shot up, practically laughing at the idea, “Ah...  _ no _ , I - I would not make a decent boss, I prefer to be in the background.” Joe stared at him, seemingly hoping for him to continue - to answer what he might have in mind for the future, but he wasn’t exactly sure how much to divulge, “I - I do have some things in the works, but can’t really talk about it till Friday, till they're finalized.”   
  
Joe raised his hands in front of him, “Understood.” Then he added with a smirk, “Can you tell me about it, later?”   
  
“I - I’d like that,” Nicky tried not to sound too excited about the idea, but he had wondered if Joe would be interested in anything he was doing. So, to hear him even asking for more details felt . . .  _ affirming _ .   
  
Joe folded his arms across his chest, the shirt along his arms now straining and Nicky looked down again, “So, what are your favorite things to make?”   
  
Nicky used a spatula to start scooping up the mix into a large glass bowl as he chuckled, “I feel like the staff would revolt if I suggest anything else but Italian food.” His answer made Joe laugh, a deep one that bubbled up in his chest and made his shoulders shake. Nicky loved the way it sounded and not wanting to cut it off, waited till it died down before elaborating, “But I - I like making snacks, for people to take with them. It’s kind of like a little note that says,  _ ‘I was thinking of you - Good luck with your journey.’ _ -”

And then he paused, because he just realized what he had said . . . and Joe did, too, “We managed to make it home alright, so it looks like it did its job.”

Nicky kept his head down, smiling more to himself than anything, and Joe asked if he wanted help scooping the mix into the small plastic baggies Nicky had already lined up on the counter. He planned on handing them out at Friday’s meeting to the board at the community center, though he didn’t tell that Joe, merely nodding his thanks as a reply instead.   
  
After he had washed his hands, Joe returned beside him and diligently helped him, while Nicky tried not to read too much into it.

* * *

Towards the end of his shift,, Joe was sitting in his usual spot outside on the patio, doodling in his book, when Booker stepped out. They greeted each other casually, and when Booker asked where Nicky was, he explained he was taking a shower to get the ‘chemical smell of the pool’ out of his hair (or at least so he said). Joe would not describe Nicky as smelling like chemicals in any way, but figured it would be inappropriate to point out and he was trying to contain his words a little bit more this week.    
  
When Booker sat down beside him - and knowing Nicky might take a little while before he came back out - Joe glanced over at his friend, and tried not to sound too interested as he asked, “So - yesterday did you mean it when you said you all are going to make a bet?”   
  
Even with his eyes down cast at the margins of his book, he could feel Booker’s gaze, and hear the smirk, “Why, you want to add to the pot?”   
  
Joe stilled his pencil, and gave a defensive retort, “No?”   
  
Booker sighed, his shoulders sinking in an exaggerated fashion against the back of his chair, “You could do a lot worse than Nicky, Joe, and besides, you won’t always be his bodyguard -” He leaned his upper body a little closer, and waved his hand, “if you want a while, that’s one thing, but I don’t think you should dismiss whatever is going on between you two.”   
  
“There isn’t anything going on - “ Joe mumbled as he looked back down at the book.   
  
Even from the angle, he could tell Booker was rolling his eyes, “Joe, I’ve known you for a decade now, I know what you look like when you’re interested.”   
  
“Then you also know I’d want more than I think  _ he’s _ interested in - “ he sighed, because it really wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Booker of all people, “Besides, I need to stay focused on whatever is going around in this house, and not get distracted.” Which was  _ also _ the truth. The DEA agents around the property seemed to stay mainly focused on the perimeter outside, or camped out in Lucio’s office. None had come anywhere near Nicky  _ yet _ , but that didn’t mean Joe was going to let his guard down.   
  
“Alright, alright, I’ll ease up on the teasing,” Booker raised his hands in silent surrender, before grinning, “but I’m still hoping for this, a lot can happen now and by the time Lucio does his thing.”   
  
“What thing?”   
  
Joe and Booker turned towards the open patio door to see Nicky standing there. Neither glanced at one another, that would have looked even more suspicious. So, Booker decided to play the dumb angle instead, “Um, pardon?”   
  
“You said my Dad is doing ‘his thing’,” Nicky stepped out on the patio, and shrugged his left shoulder, “what’s ‘his thing’?”   
  
_ ‘Ignoring your needs, putting your life in danger by keeping you in this house’ _ , Joe’s frustration crept up along his back again, a warm, angry sort of feeling that wanted to latch onto his shoulders, and he had to take a breath in order not to let it seep into his voice, “ . . . Just finalizing stuff with our contracts, like how long we’re staying.”   
  
“Oh,” Nicky quietly asked, trying to sound casual as he shifted his eyes between them, “How long are you staying?”   
  
_ ‘As long as it takes to make sure you’re safe’ _ , “As far as we know, through the end of the summer, hope you don’t mind.” Joe felt some of the tension soften by the way Nicky sort of smiled at his words.   
  
He glanced down when he replied, “I - I don’t mind.”   


Nicky and Joe allowed the silence to fill the space, not moving, or talking for a moment until finally Booker decided to take matters into his hands, “I was about to go make some dinner - “ Nicky nodded, shifting his weight between his legs, seemingly ready to excuse himself, but Booker gestured between him and Joe, “Would you like to join us? We could all eat out here, if you like?”   
  
Joe could feel his hands flex against the pages of his books, though luckily from Nicky’s vantage point it was unlikely he would be able to tell with the table in the way. It wasn’t like he didn’t like the idea of eating with Nicky, but he hadn’t wanted to assume. He was just about to say he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, but Nicky raised his eyes to them, and smiled, “I’d love to.”   
  
Booker clapped his hands together, and gave him two choices to pick from. Nicky shrugged his shoulders around a laugh and suggested Booker could ‘surprise him’. Turning to Joe, he asked the same question, and once he had his answer, excused himself for the good twenty minutes it would take to make it.    
  
Even though Nicky and Joe fell into casual conversation easily enough at the table, he couldn’t help but reflect on Booker’s words of ‘shipping’ them, when he came out with three plates of food and grinned like the cat who caught the canary. Booker might have agreed to back on the  _ verbal _ teasing, but in a way, arranging moments for them to have dinner together (even with his friend sitting across from them), seemed  _ almost  _ worse.   
  
_ And yet - _ Nicky sitting beside him, enjoying his dinner felt comfortable.

More comfortable than he wanted to admit.    


* * *

_ June 11th - Wednesday  _

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Eleven in the morning . . .  _

Nicky was stepping down into the living room, his robe wrapped around him, a towel slung over his arm, and all together ready for a quick dip before he planned on making a simple lunch for himself. Joe was already waiting in his usual spot outside, and he was halfway across the room heading towards him, when he heard the staff wing door open, not far away from him. He turned his head to the side and saw Serena, one of the staffer’s walk in with a small child beside her, and an older infant balanced on her hip. As soon as their eyes locked, she beamed, “Mia told me you were back, and I had to see it for myself.”   
  
“Serena, oh my gosh - “ Nicky walked right over, happily greeting an old friend. Serena was ten years older than him, but always very kind about letting him tag along to the small movie parties the staff’s children held once a month as he was growing up. Still smiling, he paused just short of reaching her and looked down at the small girl hiding behind her leg, “Is - Is this Camilla? Oh my - she’s gotten so big.”    
  
She had to be close to six years old now, and Nicky remembered getting to hold her when she was barely a few weeks old. She already had such lovely curls peeking out from under her cap, and he thought her long, brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders beautifully, “Yes, and she insists on going by ‘Cami’, now, and this little guy is Giorgio.” Nicky stepped closer, tenderly giving her son a gentle greeting, who cooed in response.    


He bent his knees to lower himself down to Cami’s eye level to greet her personally, but she tucked herself behind her mother further, seemingly a little intimidated by the direct attention. He could personally relate all too well, and shifted his eyes to the side, but still addressed her quietly, “Sometimes, when I feel shy around people, I pet my cat, Felicia - would you like to meet her?”   
  
Nicky could see her nod from his peripherals and he looked up at Serena, “If that’s okay?”   
  
“Of course it is Nicolò,” he tucked his chin close to his chest at the name, and grinned. It didn’t matter how many times he told them ‘Nicky’ was just fine, they insisted. He walked over to the couch not far away, where Felicia had curled herself close to a cushion, and scooped her up into his arms. He motioned for Cami to come over, and sat down on the edge of the couch while the little girl carefully glided her small hand over Felicia’s back and swinging tail. As soon as she purred, Cami giggled, already seemingly at ease. Glad that he could have helped with that, Nicky looked up at Serena who had also walked over, “Did you guys plan on using the pool for a bit today?”   
  
The staff technically did have a small pool on the other side of the property, but Nicky had plenty of memories of some of them sneaking over to his when he was growing up to escape the watchful eyes of their parents. Nicky enjoyed the small company, since he didn’t get to go to public school, and over the years, some of them still switched between the two pools whether he was home or home not.   
  
“Oh, we were just going to use the other one later, we actually came because Mama invited us for the staff luncheon - “ 

Nicky immediately tensed, and Felicia noticed, giving a deeper purr as she resettled her head over his forearm. The vibrations reverberated even through the material of the robe, but it unfortunately didn’t have the desired effect of distracting him.   
  
For the last four years, while he was away at college, he coordinated with Mia to book them on a steady rotation once a month. Catered lunches from a list of favorite local options that were chosen on a random cycle. He had planned on continuing them, even booked today’s before he had left school, but still had somehow managed to completely forget about it. And now he realized that likely, with this being the first one he was home for, the staff might try to thank him in person for it. The thought of at least fifteen people rushing at him at once gave him heart palpitations, and he clung to Felicia a little tighter as he ran through scenarios in his head where he could find an excuse to hide in his room - but that also didn’t make him appear rude.   
  
“Mama, I want to use the pool!” Cami asked excitedly, obviously having noticed the large pool just passed the edge of the sofa. It helped Nicky to reshift his focus for a moment and he looked up at Serena, hoping she couldn’t tell he felt a little anxious about the luncheon. She smiled down at him, seemingly unaware why he had gone quiet, “Would that be okay? I mean, the lunch is like an hour away, and she knows how to swim.”   
  
He looked down at Cami, desperate to push the anxious thought behind and gave her a soft smile, “I was just about to go for a dip myself - how about you go first? I’ll put Felicia in my room and join you if that’s okay?”    
  
Cami looked excited, already tugging at her dress, and revealing the red swimsuit she was wearing underneath. Nicky explained to Serena that Joe was out there reading, and that he was just his security guy, in case she wondered - but Cami was already making a dash for the patio door and Serena seemed to notice Giorgio needed a change. She excused herself to the small half bathroom nearby, and Nicky decided to carry Felicia to his room so she didn’t try to make a break for it with Cami likely filtering in and out of the house. 

He tried to be quick about it, if only to prove to himself the staff luncheon didn’t make him this nervous, but he had taken a good five minutes before meandering outside.    
  
However, he was pleasantly surprised when he saw Joe standing close to the edge, and tugging at his shirt as if he was about to take it off. He wondered if Cami had somehow managed to convince him to join them, and all thoughts of the luncheon faded away as he imagined Joe’s chest on full display. He stepped up beside him, trying not to sound excited at the prospect, “Are you - joining us?”   


When he didn’t immediately respond, Nicky looked over at him, and realized there were small beads of sweat along his hairline, and his gaze fixed on Cami who was already beginning to splash inside the water. When he stepped closer, he saw Joe’s eyes looked dark, and Nicky became genuinely worried by his silence, “Joe? Are you alright?”

* * *

Joe had just finished his third book, managed to doodle all over it twice, and looked up wondering what was taking Nicky so long. He had mentioned forgetting a towel, but surely that didn’t take this long. It made him uncomfortable, like maybe he should make sure everything was okay - and suddenly, one dark thought flashed through his mind: _ was _ something wrong? Had that worry about Nicky’s safety _ inside _ the home manifested itself?

But just as he was ready to head inside to help with the sense of rising panic, a little child practically leapt out onto the patio. He had never seen her before, but her brown curls bouncing behind her as she ran for the pool, looked all too familiar to someone else. Once he realized her trajectory, he dropped the book towards the ground and yelled after her, “Hey!”   
  
She spun a little at his voice, and her wide eyes implied that he had likely scared her.

Worse, since she was already close to the edge, and midrun, she flopped into the pool and Joe felt like he could double over at the sudden pain in his stomach.   
  
He hurriedly shoved the chair behind him, his legs working faster than his brain could, and watched horrified as her small arm breached through the surface. It froze him in place, right at the edge of the pool, and though he had already begun to tug at his shirt, desperate to help her he couldn’t move. Her head bobbed above the slight current her fall had created, and though she coughed twice, she seemed okay - already doggy paddling closer to the shallow end. 

“Joe?” It was Nicky beside him, dipping into his line of sight, and the way he leaned close seemed to have implied that he had likely said something beforehand that he hadn’t registered, “Are you alright?”

He had to look downright wild, his eyes wide, his brow glistening with sweat, and he uncurled his tight fists from his shirt and let the material fall over his belt, “ . . . Yes.” He turned around, more embarrassed than anything else, but unable to walk away just yet, his knees felt shaky, “Enjoy the pool, I’m fine.”    
  
Surely Nicky would like to ask him more, but blissfully he did not press, and Joe heard him step into the pool to join the young girl. Joe sighed, willing his senses to calm down a bit, desperate to self regulate and remind himself of where he was. That everything was fine. Everyone behind him was  _ fine _ . He was just about to head back to the table, when a woman stepped out with a baby on her hip,“Cami, you forgot your sunscreen!”   
  
She must have realized that she had managed to step up almost right beside Joe, and looked up at him with a smile, “Hi, I’m Serena - “   
  
“Uh, Joe,” he casually greeted, grateful that his voice didn’t give insight to what he had just experienced moments before. In fact, he must have looked entirely put together based on what Serena said next.   
  
“Joe, do you mind holding Giorgio just for a moment, while I get this sunscreen on her?”    
  
Joe barely had a chance to nod, since likely Nicky holding a baby in the pool would do absolutely nothing for his already frayed nerves, and dangling one in Serena’s arms while she tried to put sunscreen on with one hand seemed to be a recipe for disaster. She smiled her thanks, and plopped the baby in his arms, while he leaned back, a little unsure at the idea. It was a bit uncomfortable, especially with the baby’s wide eyes looking up at him in confusion. But when he giggled and reached for his beard, giving it a playful tug, Joe managed to remember how nice it could feel to hold one. He hadn’t, not since - 

“There, all done - “ Serena turned around to get Giorgio from him, but then realized how smeared her own hands were. Looking a little apologetic, she glanced between them and Joe, “Sorry, do you mind following me in the kitchen with him, I’ll just wash my hands and then I can take him off your hands?”   
  
Joe didn’t mind, a baby was a good distraction from his thoughts, and Giorgio continued curling his small fingers through the edges of his beard, while they headed inside.

Serena was standing in the kitchen, turning on the sink with her elbow, “So, how long have you been working here?”   
  
“This is just my second week - “ Joe explained, and Giorgio giggled at the way his beard shifted when he spoke.   
  
She glanced over at him as she ran her hands under the water, “I’m guessing by the accent, not Italian?”   
  
“No, not Italian -” he grinned, before inquiring exactly who she was, hopefully he wasn’t assuming wrong by wondering if she was staff, “ - have you worked here for long?”   
  
“Mm-hm, a lot of us are second generation staffers, we sort of grew up around Nicolò, some of us even got to play with him on the weekends -” she lathered her hands with soap, spreading it between her fingers, “but really, he bonded with Nile the most.”   
  
Joe hadn’t realized Nicky and Nile were childhood friends, “Nile was here when she was a kid?”   
  
Serena turned off the water and reached for a towel, “Oh, yeah, her dad was like, head of security for a long time - he died when she was young, and it sort of sealed her and Nicolò’s friendship.” She finished wiping her hands, and returned the towel on the hanger, “She had helped him when Oriana died, and he in turn helped her when Mike died.”   
  
Joe hadn’t asked Nicky about her, and hopefully he wouldn’t mind him asking Serena, “Oriana, that was Nicky’s mom?”   
  
“Yeah, she was a lovely woman -” she folded her arms around her stomach, smiling more to herself, than at him, “I see a lot of her in Nicolò, both in looks and how kind he is with all of us.”   
  
That piqued his curiosity, “In what way?”   
  
“Oriana was always trying to find little ways to give back, like Christmas bonus’ and making sure everyone’s birthday always got celebrated, she was  _ big _ on birthdays - and when Nicky came back from his travels, he sort of just picked up on that,” she walked over to take Giorgio from Joe, and balanced him back on her hip as she elaborated, “He would make these adorable little cupcakes, and if someone had like allergies or something, he’d make sure it was allergen friendly. And he’d always put them in these adorable little boxes, and leave it on the table with a little birthday card in the staff room.” Joe thought back to Nicky’s food package from last week, and found it incredibly endearing to think of him younger and making them for random people in the home.    
  
“We kept telling him he should look into cooking, since he had such a knack for it, and I’m glad he decided to do that -” Giorgio wiggled a little against Serena, and she gave his belly a soft tickle, before looking back at Joe, “And even when he was away at college, he made sure to coordinate with Mia about our Christmas bonuses, and that each staff had a birthday card with money in it, and of course the staff luncheon.”   
  
Joe raised an eyebrow, “Staff luncheon?”   
  
“Yeah, once a month, Nicolò pays for a restaurant from our favorite list to get delivered, even when he went to college. This is actually the first one he’s home for, and so a bunch of us are here, even on our off days. We just wanted to thank him for how kind he’s been.”   


Joe leaned his hand on the counter, shifting his weight on the arm while Serena was distracted by Giorgio’s pleas for her attention. He had already thought Nicky was a kind, nurturing sort of person with the food package, and how he gently took care of his cat, and the way he interacted with Nile - but he had no idea how  _ far reaching  _ his acts of kindness extended, even when he wasn’t living at home. It made Joe wonder what else he was up to behind the scenes. He did say he would tell Joe about his plans after Friday, but now knowing all this, his mind contemplated just what he was up to. He certainly wouldn’t have described Nicky as  _ ‘unassuming’ _ before, he was far too handsome, and even flirtatious sometimes, to ever  _ truly _ fade into the background (no matter how much he might want to). But now, the possibilities of what Nicky was up to swirled through his mind. He was greatly looking forward to discovering his secret. 

“Mama, Nicky says I can visit next weekend for a movie!”   
  
Joe turned slightly, still leaning on his arm, the other hand shoved in his pocket. Nicky walked in with the towel draped around his waist, but even drying off a little, his hair was practically soaked and droplets of water collected around his bare feet where he was standing with the little girl. She was holding onto his hand, and excitedly explained that Nile was visiting next weekend and that she was invited to watch a movie with them.

When Nicky looked up from her excited announcement, he aimed his smile - a big, downright dazzling one - over at Serena, and Joe didn’t look away. He hadn’t made assumptions about Nicky, but he also had not realized just how  _ much _ he did for others. Kind, precious . . . and completely unaware of what his father was up to -

“What kind of movie?” Serena teased.

Nicky rolled his eyes, and patted the little girl’s hand before letting go, “Disney, what else?”   
  
The little girl jogged over to her mother, tugging on her pants and asking if she  _ really  _ could come next weekend, and Nicky did genuinely seem to mean the invitation. He nodded over at Serena when she quietly mouthed for his final approval, before happily assuring her that they could come back on Sunday afternoon. Only then, with Serena’s attention fully focused on her kids, did Nicky allow himself to glance over at Joe, and seemed relieved when he didn’t look nearly as upset as before.   


Joe wanted to assure him, take a moment to explain something, anything, but then again - he couldn't  _ really _ talk about  _ that _ . But still, he stepped closer, willing himself to make an effort . . . when Mia walked into the living room, “Nicolò, there you are - the catering van just pulled up.” His shoulders immediately tensed, and Joe paused, unsure why that would be an issue, “- since you’re actually here, we figured you should get the honor of signing for it.”   
  
“O-of course, let me just grab my robe,” he turned around, heading outside, and Mia made polite conversation with both Joe and Serena, before Nicky appeared with the robe tied around his waist. He didn’t look over at Joe though, simply followed Mia towards the front entrance, leaving Joe and Serena alone again.

“I’m not surprised Nicolò never grew out of the Disney movies,” she grinned, and Joe asked her what she meant, “Oh, just that Oriana was a big Disney fan, too. She used to call him some sort of Italian nickname, but I can’t quite remember what it was now after all this time.”

Joe hoped it wouldn’t make Serena uncomfortable by asking, but he was curious, “How long ago did she pass?”   
  
She patted her hand over her daughter’s wet hair, her face softening, “Nicolò was eight.”

* * *

It was bad enough that he might have to hurriedly look presentable  _ and _ be bombarded by a crowded room full of people, but somehow the thought of Joe learning about the luncheon felt even  _ worse _ . The last thing he wanted was for Joe to think he was one of those rich guys who liked to  _ ‘show off’ _ how much money they have. But then again, surely Joe and Booker would have been welcome to enjoy the lunch, too. It wasn’t like he could keep a huge catering event a secret. He just wished he would have remembered it happened today,  _ and  _ had the chance to explain it to Joe beforehand. 

Well that,  _ and  _ he had hoped for a moment alone to ask Joe what was going on by the pool earlier. He seemed so - . . . actually, Nicky wasn’t sure how to read his look, but it was so unfamiliar to anything he had seen before, that he genuinely worried something was wrong. He had watched him from the pool while Serena was taking care of Cami, hoping he’d look over and give him one of his lopsided grins that looked particularly stunning on his soft lips. Instead, he watched his upper body soften as Giorgio played with his beard.    
  
. . . And felt terrible for being jealous of a  _ flipping baby, _ just because he wanted to know what his own fingers would feel like gliding along his facial hair. 

Once he signed for everything, the caterers began unloading the truck, and Mia told them to follow her - and told Nicky to get dressed, while she would go on ahead and grab Serena, her kids, and Joe to meet him in the staff common area. He reluctantly agreed, because he knew there was simply no way out of it, and walked to his room to get changed. He kept it simple with his jeans, plain shirt and socks, but did feel the need for two sticks of gum. He hoped it would help, and maybe people wouldn’t try to strike up a conversation with him, if he was chewing gum the whole time.

By the time he made it to the doors for the staff wing, he could hear the crowd on the other side, and took a deep breath before swinging it open. Naturally they cheered and clapped, and Nicky tried not to look as nervous as he felt. He scanned his eyes over mostly familiar faces, and gave quick nods from the various greetings being shouted at him. Mia walked right up to him, looping her arm around his, and it did help steady him, even when he chewed on the gum harder - “Now as you all know, Nicolò provided this fantastic lunch for us today -”   
  
A second round of applause made him tense a little, and Mia must have sensed, so she blissfully hurried her speech along, “So let’s go enjoy it, and show our thanks by leaving no leftovers!” The small crowd cheered, and Nicky felt her tap his upper arm once. She gave him a silent  _ ‘thank you’ _ , and didn’t seem to take offense at his nonverbal reply when he merely smiled back at her. She walked back towards the middle of the room, pointing out where the caterers could set up towards the back, and with the staff following behind her to get in line, Nicky spotted Joe - and Booker - standing against a nearby wall.    


Nicky had been worried what Joe might think of him now - worried he might look at him as some rich guy who flaunted his assets - but when their eyes locked, he noticed something else behind his gaze. Joe’s eyes were usually warm, and gleaming. Sometimes, they had a hint of desire within them when he thought Nicky wouldn’t notice. But the look he gave him now felt . . . deeper. More intimate, and Nicky wasn’t sure how to take it.    
  
He was likely misreading things with Joe again. That man had a way of mixing things up in head sometimes.   
  
He looked away, and got in line for the food.

* * *

_ June 12th - Thursday _

_ Di Genova Property _

_ Five in the morning . . . _

Somehow Nicky had managed to wake up before his alarm had even gone off.

  
Once again he felt actually rested, and didn’t feel weary at all as he stepped out of his room after a quick morning routine. 

He certainly wasn’t surprised to see Booker enjoying a bowl of cereal at the kitchen island, but the man did seem surprised to him, “ _ Bonjour,  _ Nicky - you’re up early.”   
  
“Sorry - “ Nicky paused along the edge of the island.   
  
“There's nothing to apologize for -” Booker smirked, “ - couldn’t sleep?”   
  
“N-no, I slept, quite good, actually,” Nicky quickly assured, not wanting Booker to think there was anything wrong. Because, really, there wasn’t. His big meeting was tomorrow, but for once, he was certain that he had prepared for it as best as he could. There really was nothing more to do than wait out the clock until it happened. He managed to still his mind enough from the usual ten outcomes he cycled through, and went to bed earlier than usual.   
  
Booker’s phone suddenly vibrated on the counter, one right after the other, and Booker placed his spoon in the bowl, “Sorry, two messages back to back is usually Quynh.” His phone was actually closer to Nicky, than to himself, and when he went to pick it up, he could see his screensaver was a picture of the team. After Booker replied, Nicky asked about the image he saw, and gestured at the phone, “Is that - you guys?”   
  
“Hm - oh, my background, yeah, here - “ Booker held it up for Nicky to get a closer look. 

Andy, Quynh, Joe, and Booker were all standing in front of a black helicopter, wearing bullet proof vests, and sporting various smiles and grins, “What were you guys doing?”   
  
“Job in the middle east, helping with transport of some politicians, but really, it was pretty straightforward - “ he pulled the phone back, punching in a code, “here, I got even better ones.” Opening up his gallery, he balanced it between them, as Nicky sat down beside him, “Here’s some more from that assignment -” Nicky smiled at the various images: Andy and Quynh smiling at the camera, heads close together. Or Booker and Joe holding up guns but laughing, as if whatever they were doing was not nearly as serious as the artillery implied. Booker swiped some more, and the scenery changed as he chuckled, “And, oh, Spain, that was a fun one.”

It was then that Nicky saw an image of Joe, wearing his sunglasses and a backwards cap. He was grinning over at the camera and long curls peeked out from all directions, “Did Joe use to have longer hair?”   
  
“Yeah, he tends to shave it for the summer,” Booker swiped quickly through a few images before showing one of Joe looking out to the side at something, “Here’s one without the hat.”

Nicky tried not to be obvious about the stare, but they did suit him,  _ beautifully _ . 

“They look nice,” he commented with a soft voice.   


Another message from Quynh popped up, and Booker texted back, before seemingly recalling something, “I know Joe’s been drawing in his books, but have you seen a finished portrait of his?”   
  
“No -” Nicky tipped his head, “he does portraits?”    
  
Booker chuckled as he searched through his gallery for something. Once he found it, he handed it over to Nicky, revealing a stunning painting of both Andy and Quynh, “He did one for them as a wedding present a few years back.” 

Nicky stared at it in wonder, taking particular note of the small details he added throughout, “He’s quite talented, I’m surprised.”   
  
Booker’s voice practically chirped, “What, that he could probably bench you  _ and _ draw you?”   


Nicky’s cheeks warmed a little at the idea of Joe’s hands underneath him, trying to lift him above him. He really wasn’t that much smaller in size, but then again, Joe obviously worked out . . . “Joe’s full of surprises - quite empathetic for someone who looks like they could beat you up with one hand.”   
  
“Ho-How so?” Nicky glanced over at Booker.   
  
He pressed the side button of his phone, and shoved it in his back pocket. Nicky was utterly unprepared for his words with how casual his tone was, “Joe got assigned to me after his initial training, and no one knew, but I was basically a functioning alcoholic.”   
  
Nicky’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, “Really?”   
  
Booker huffed out a dry laugh, but kept his eyes focused on the bowl in front of him, “Yeah, poor guy moves in and finds his room mate on a bender like a month later - and, really, we were set to go on a job a week later -” He shrugged his shoulders, and pushed the bowl further away from him, “and honestly? He should have reported me, and got somebody else assigned to the job.” He bent his elbow, and leaned his cheek into his open palm, looking over at Nicky, “But instead, he helps me sober up, and sits with me in meetings, and dumps out all the alcohol in our apartment.”    
  
Nicky wasn’t sure what to say to all  _ that _ , and he wondered how he would have tried to handle it. Likely not as gracefully as Joe seemed to. Booker leaned back a little, and explained, “I mean, eventually, once I was in a better head space, I did talk with the team and did some rehab, but honestly, I was already ready for a change before I even went in there. And, well -” He waved his hands in front of himself, as if presenting something, “ten years, nine months, and two weeks sober.”   
  
“Wow, that -” with how comfortable Booker seemed to be about the subject, Nicky hoped he wouldn’t mind him speaking informally, “That must have been really hard for you, but I’m glad you’re in a better place now.” Booker seemed like such a nice, friendly guy, that it was hard to imagine why he would ever be an alcoholic. But then again, Nicky had enjoyed quite a few benders himself, and knew how tempting it was to have a few drinks to get out of your own head sometimes.   
  
“Thanks, Nicky, I appreciate that. Of course the work is up to me - but I can trace the beginnings of my recovery to Joe, and he stayed beside me, and didn’t judge me once,” Booker smirked, more at himself than at Nicky as he moved his hands into his lap, “Now, don’t get me wrong - he held me accountable, and didn’t sugar coat the need for me to figure this all out, but yeah, it’s going to be different when he retires.”   
  
That made Nicky give him a long stare, “He’s - retiring?”   
  
Booker shifted his body a little, “Semi-retiring, after our job is done here, Lykon will be taking his place.”   
  
Nicky suddenly felt like his chest tightened a little. He knew Joe would be around through the summer, but he hadn’t really allowed himself to think about what happened once he moved on. A part of him figured he’d still be in the area, but if he was leaving the company, that opened up quite the possibility of where he was moving onto next, “Why is he retiring? Whe- where is he going to be after?”   
  
As if on cue, Joe walked around the corner, and stepped into the living room, “Morning, reporting for shift change.”   
  
Nicky and Booker spun around on their chairs, and Joe tilted his chin up over at them, giving them both a broad smile.    
  


* * *

Joe had woken up earlier than usual.    
  
Last night, his dreams swirled with both painful memories, but also thoughts of Nicky that seemed to invade the crevices of his imagination. He was having a hard time not thinking both about his body and his safety, but also as a man with more character than he had given him credit for. 

With Nicky’s mother dying so young, and struggling with anxiety, he surely understood pain - and he almost considered sharing some of his own, wondering if it wouldn’t be too much. Which really . . . was ridiculous to consider long term. He had maybe two more months with Nicky, and his focus was to keep him safe, not indulge in -  _ whatever _ was forming between them. 

He needed a quick stop in the hallway bathroom, and took the long way around so Booker could enjoy his breakfast in peace, but once he got close to the living room he heard both Booker and Nicky in conversation. He was about to round the corner when he realized they were talking about pictures, and though he knew it was rude, he stayed hidden as he listened in. 

When Nicky commented that he thought his curls looked nice, Joe smiled to himself, because he had planned on not growing them back out till the fall - but maybe he could cancel his hair appointment trim scheduled next week.

It was interesting to hear Booker and Nicky talking about his art, and the memories of Andy and Quynh’s impromptu wedding after one of their missions, brought a smile to his face. They had taken a few photos of their own for them in the small Mediterranean chapel, but there wasn’t a professional photographer and Joe thought a formal portrait might be nice for them to have. It took him a good month, but to this day, is proudly displayed in their living room. Of course he did notice Nicky going quiet for a moment after Booker made his ‘benching and drawing’ comment, which personally made him want to roll his eyes at the man. But it was good to know _ he _ wasn’t the only one being teased by him. 

He had almost stepped out into the room, if anything, to stop Booker from joking further in case Nicky was uncomfortable - but stopped when his roommate shared about his past. It was a bit of an open secret at this point among the TOG company, and no one really treated him differently for it, but Joe was a little surprised he had decided to tell Nicky about it, of all people. Then Joe realized what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to share about  _ himself _ , he was trying to sing _ Joe’s _ accolades of how great he was.

It warmed his heart to hear the kind things he was saying about him, and really Booker and Joe were the kind of men that had no problem sharing their feelings - especially over a game of soccer and some club sodas - but when the conversation shifted about his retirement he got nervous. Joe doubted Booker would reveal personal information, but just in case, he pushed away from the wall and stepped into the room, “Morning, reporting for shift change.”

Nicky gave him a soft smile, while Booker stepped off his bar stool and took his bowl to the sink, “Morning Joe, how did you sleep?”   
  
_ Miserable _ , “Okay.” He could see Nicky’s eyes watching him for a moment, but as soon as he realized he had been caught doing it, mumbled something about changing into his clothes for the day and walked out of the room. Once he was certain he was out of earshot, he stepped closer to Booker, and leaned against the counter, “You really wanted to take a trip down memory lane this morning?”

Booker gave his bowl a quick rinse, and explained, “One, I don’t mind singing your praises, and two, if it helps Nicky realize there’s more to you than just being a gym rat, then I consider that a successful end to my shift.”   
  
Joe should have been mad that Booker thought he needed help here, or was still going for this even with his almost  _ redundant insistence _ that nothing could happen between him and Nicky, but when he looked down at his boots, a smile tugged at his lips, “ _ Merci,  _ Seb.”   
  
Booker turned off the water, and playfully flicked his wrist in Joe’s direction, allowing some water droplets to fling in his direction, “ _ De rien, _ Yusuf.”   
  
Shortly, after Nicky came back, Booker gave quick goodbyes before walking through the staff room doors. Joe was still near the sink, and Nicky - who seemed awfully quiet even for him - moved around him before pointing to the cabinet near his head. He realized he was likely trying to make his morning coffee and stepped aside so he could grab a cup, “Sorry - “   
  
“No worries,” Nicky softly replied, and Joe tried not to stare at the way his white shirt stretched over his torso as he reached for two cups, “I’m assuming you’ll want tea?”    
  
Joe pressed off from the counter and headed towards the island, “Yes, please.”   
  
But it was afterwards, as Nicky began to make his own cup, that Joe realized he was making tea for himself, too. Joe hadn’t really mentioned it since Monday morning, but for whatever reason, Nicky had decided today to try the tea again and he hoped it helped him even a little bit. When he turned around and handed him his cup, they raised it to one another as they had done for the previous three days, and quietly watched the sunrise beside them.

* * *

_ Late Afternoon . . . _

Nicky had gotten a text from Nile asking if he wouldn’t mind giving her a call.

Excusing himself from Joe’s company, he headed to his room, and picked up Felicia as he climbed into his large bed. She snuggled against his chest, and he gave her forehead a little scratch before dialing up Nile on voice chat.    
  
Nile looked adorable in the matching pastel pajama set he bought them three Christmas’ ago, but Nicky was completely unprepared for her sullen expression, and even worse, the sadness in her voice. She had barely managed to greet him, before he sat up straighter against his headboard, “Everything okay?” 

Blissfully, she knew not to drag it out, and got straight to the point so his mind didn’t start heading to the worst case scenarios, “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it tomorrow after all.”

Though relieved to hear she wasn’t in some sort of distress, he sank back against his headboard, unable to hide his disappointment, “I’m sorry to hear that - may I ask why?”    
  
Nile tipped her head at him, her loose braids dangling over her shoulder, “Nicky, I’m calling to tell you I can’t go to one of the most important meetings in your life the  _ day before _ , of course you deserve to know why - “ Nicky tried not to smile at that, at how reaffirming she was, even when she was chastising him, “It’s with the academy, they had switched my class group around with another for the fall, and now I need to get this paperwork in or else I’ll lose my spot -” She huffed in frustration, and Nicky noticed the large pile of papers by her knee as the screen shifted, “Ugh, they’re the ones who mucked up here, but now I have to spend all day on it in order to turn it in by the end of tomorrow. I’m so sorry.”   
  
But Nicky wouldn’t hear of it, she deserved some support, too and the least he could do was assure her that he certainly wasn’t mad, “Nile it’s alright, promise - I understand.“   
  
And really, he  _ did _ , but when Nile asked him if he’d be able to find another ride Nicky realized the  _ full _ extent of her not coming with him the next day. He had planned on him and Nile taking her car, and Joe following behind them. He was worried about what Joe would think, and figured it’d be better if he could ride in the car with Nile so she could keep him distracted. Now, it was likely that he would need to ask to ride with Joe, and sit alone with him to  _ and _ from the place.    
  
Sure,  _ technically _ he could drive and just take one of the cars provided for staff, but he highly doubted that would make any sense to Joe. The man would likely  _ insist _ they ride together.    
  
He did sort of hope for Joe’s emotional support (especially if Nile could not be there), but worry over him hating Nicky’s idea for the community center spun through his mind, and worse, he feared a  _ silent _ car ride home . . . “Nicky?”   
  
Only then did he realize he had gone silent, stuck inside of his mind for a moment, and he wearily looked at Nile’s smiling face on the screen -    
  
“Joe’s gonna love the presentation.”

Nicky could feel his throat tightening with emotion, but he managed a hoarse response, “You know exactly what to say to me Nile, thank you.”

He was swiping at the lone tear that had managed to escape the corner of his eye, while she grinned, “Call me tomorrow night and tell me all about it?”   
  
He managed a quiet  _ ‘of course’ _ , before Nile explained she had to get going, “I love you.”   
  
“Ditto.”

* * *

_ Dinnertime . . . _

Booker was likely going to come out soon, and Joe closed the book he was reading before giving his body a light stretch from the stiff couch. He had just finished twisting his torso when he heard Nicky walk into the living room. They had spent a pretty relaxing day indoors for once, chatting about their travels some more, and even passed the time watching some old black and white movie in the theater room. It seemed to have been a generally good day until Nicky said he needed to make a phone call - which was almost an hour ago. Now that he was finally back, Joe was about to ask if everything was alright, before Nicky stepped up to him first, nervously running his top teeth over his bottom lip.    
  
It stilled Joe, and he was worried something was wrong after all.

Nicky didn’t look up, but asked if he could make him dinner that night, before hurriedly adding, “- well, for you and Booker, I mean.”   
  
Joe instantly perked up at the idea, and wondered if Nicky’s nervousness had something to do with the intention behind the suggestion. He hadn’t presumed to think that just because Nicky went to culinary school he would want to cook all the time at home, but the thought of him wanting to make something for  _ him _ ? He tried hard no to read into it, but Nicky’s fidgety hands that now clamped together in front of him, made Joe want to ask - if anything, to clarify his intent. Even though he genuinely liked the idea, he still cautiously asked, “Why?” 

Nicky hurriedly raised his gaze to him, but looked downright sheepish as he explained, “Wh- uh, I feel kind of bad asking but I need a favor tomorrow morning - “   
  
Joe’s hope dimmed tremendously, and he muttered a monotone, “What - “   
  
“I need a ride to a meeting at the community center about twenty minutes away, Nile was going to, but she can’t last minute - “   
  
Joe shouldn’t have read into the gesture after all, and felt a little dumb for having even considered the possibility - but still, he wanted to make sure he was understanding things correctly, “So, you wanted to make me dinner, in order to drive you somewhere tomorrow?”    
  
Nicky’s confused expression only made it worse, “I - yes.” 

It was bad enough for Joe to realize that he hadn’t meant to cook him dinner like he  _ wanted _ to do that, but to hear that Nicky genuinely thought he  _ had  _ to do that to even ask for  _ such _ a small favor, irked him. He felt sorry for him that he genuinely seemed to believe that, and wanted to remind Nicky that driving him around was part of his job. He never wanted Nicky to worry about asking him to do it, “It’s part of my job to drive you places, make sure you get there safely and back, you don’t have to do anything in exchange for that.”   
  
“I - uh, okay - “ Nicky looked down, biting his bottom lip,  _ harder _ .   
  
Joe was certain his tone had been a reassuring one, but maybe in the moment Nicky couldn’t really hear the sincerity within his words. Worse, maybe he feared it was too formal, that Joe’s reminder of his job requirements implied he wasn’t interested in  _ ever _ having him make him dinner? Though he likely shouldn’t be so unprofessional about it, Joe felt a moment of truth to help steady Nicky’s concern would be okay just this time. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he tried to sound as casual as possible about it, “If you do want to make me dinner, let it be without any strings attached, okay?”   
  
“I - “ Nicky raised his head to reply, but then stopped, as if unsure how to after all.    
  
Joe waited a moment, but when he realized he was likely just a little too overwhelmed, decided to make a suggestion, “Why don’t we order in tonight, and you can have dinner with Booker and me?”   
  
Nicky’s broad, _ tense _ shoulders slumped a little, and he untangled his fingers, “I - I’d like that.”

* * *

_ June 13th - Friday _

_ Community Center _

Nicky had tossed and turned more last night than he had all week.   
Both the impending meeting, and how badly his idea of asking for a favor had gone the previous night, had kept him from getting any meaningful sleep.    
  
Even though Joe seemed  _ okay _ during the dinner, Nicky couldn’t help but think he had somehow insulted him. It didn’t help that even now Joe was silent as he drove him to the community center twenty minutes away. Nicky’s anxious mind kept ruminating on his words of only doing things for him  _ ‘without strings attached’ _ and he worried it implied that even after his job was over in the summer - he wouldn’t be interested in ever really allowing him to cook for him. 

By the time Joe pulled into the parking lot of the building, Nicky was gripping his plastic coffee cup tightly with both hands, and waited for Joe to open the car door beside him. Just as he was stepping out, Joe clicked on the bluetooth attached to his ear, “The  _ Prince _ has arrived”   
  
With both feet on the ground, and his various packets for the board tucked tightly under his arm, Nicky gave Joe a quizzical stare, “ _ ‘Prince’ _ ?”   
  
“Codename for Booker -,” Joe explained, and Nicky was glad to see his usual grin on his face, it helped him feel better, “ - be glad, his original idea was  _ BluePrince _ , then he thought of IcePrince.”   
  
Nicky gave a nervous laugh, “What?”   
  
Joe closed the door to the car, and walked over to the trunk, “Codenames are good in public so we aren’t announcing who you are in unfamiliar crowds, but they usually are meant to describe someone.” Which made sense, but Nicky wasn’t quite following the reasoning till Joe elaborated, “Booker’s initial idea was  _ BluePrince _ , for your status and eye color - but your eyes aren’t blue.”    
  
After grabbing the box of snacks they had packed the other day, Joe locked the car, and they started walking towards the entrance of the building - but when Joe commented on his eye color, Nicky looked down so hopefully he wouldn’t see his smile. Something about the fact that Joe noticed his multicolored eyes made him feel cherished and most of his nervousness seemed to fade away. But he still wondered . . . “And what was  _ IcePrince _ for?” 

Joe moved the box under his arm to grab the door for Nicky (which seemed a little silly, seeing as Nicky could have simply opened the door himself). He gave Joe a coy smirk at the effort of him trying to balance the box on his thigh a little awkwardly, while Joe tried to explain the other codename, “During the first week, when you were still getting used to the idea of us, you would be so quiet but would sometimes stare at us - and Booker joked if you meant to, you could make someone shiver with that glare.”   
  
Nicky stilled halfway through the doorway, and his eyes widened, “I  _ glare _ ?”   
  
“Hm?” Joe let the door fall behind him as he rebalanced the box in both his arms more securely, “ - no, no you don’t - he just meant, like, if you  _ were _ angry at someone, or something -” He sighed, and took a deep breath around a chuckle, “I don’t think I’m explaining this right, sorry - “   
  
Nicky studied his face for a moment, trying to discern if Booker and him were potentially referring to him as _ ‘icy’ _ behind closed doors. He tipped his head up at him, hoping for some reassurance, “But now it’s just  _ ‘Prince’ _ ?”   
  
“Yes, definitely.”   
  
Nicky gave a quick shrug, “I can live with that - “ and Joe looked instantly relieved - “the conference room is just this way.”   
  


* * *

The room was empty at the moment, and Nicky flicked on the lights before he began to walk around the table and placed his pre-prepared packets in front of the chairs. Joe walked over to the small desk near the window and placed the box of snacks on it before there was a quick knock on the door. When he turned around, he saw none other than Tom - the man that he had met outside the coffee shop a week and a half ago. He knew he owed him an apology, but he made a beeline for Nicky first as they chatted about the impending meeting.

As more people began to arrive, Nicky greeted everyone politely but Joe could tell he was nervous. Even when Tom walked over to him, Joe kept his eyes focused on Nicky as he moved close to the white board on the opposite side of the room. Only when Tom stepped up right beside him, did Joe lower his gaze to the older man, “Hello Tom, I wanted to offer my apologies for last week - “   
  
“No need," he extended his hand, offering a firm handshake that Joe accepted, "Nicky explained, I understand.”   
  
Joe was relieved to hear it, “Thank you, Sir."

"I'm glad you decided to come with him today -" Joe was about to explain it was part of his job, but the truth was, even if it wasn't, he would still have come that day, " - I think Nicky is worried the board won't approve the program, but really, this is more a formality for insurance records. It's already as good as agreed on."

Joe leaned back against the wall behind him, more than curious to learn what Nicky had been up to. Though luckily everyone had taken their seats, and the meeting began.   
  


* * *

Nicky was grateful he had chosen to wear a shirt underneath the button down, he was certain he was sweating out his nervousness under the ten pairs of eyes now looking at him. He had worked so hard on this and knew he needed to simply push through the fear and carry on anyways. 

Clearing his throat once, he folded his hands over his own packet in front of him, “Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to share this presentation with the board."

When nobody seemed to recoil at his words, it helped him to be less fidgety in his chair and he could hear how every word he spoke sounded more confident as he went on - though their welcoming body language also helped tremendously, "According to some of the community records that were shared with me, I was made aware of just how many members are considered low income, and a significant portion are considered below the poverty line."

"There are several studies that link the significance of food, health, and income levels that I included in the printouts,” he opened up his packet and several people around the table followed suit, “My hope is to start a food based program that I think could help long term in both matters of health in the community, and help build intergenerational family connections.” 

He lifted out printouts of the curated menu ideas he had stored in the folder’s pockets and held them up a little, “With Tom’s help, I created a menu plan from the most commonly donated food items that are found in the community food shelf. I believe by only using dry food items that are easily accessible for even the lowest income members, we can hopefully encourage families to bond in the kitchen, and feel confident in the healthy meals they make.”   
  
Finally, he turned over to the last page, in case any member of the board might have a question of the summary of cost, “I can appreciate that budget might be a concern, but by only using food shelf items that the participants would already have, it cuts down the operating costs significantly.” Surely, eventually, the board would likely need to approve some sort of funding for the program. Hire a chef, a nutritionist, and someone who could organize things behind the scenes, but he hoped he could at least offer his services in the beginning, “If approved, I would like to volunteer my services for the first year to help lead bi-monthly cooking classes to help anyone who does not feel confident in the kitchen.” 

No one said anything in response to his offer, and it made him worried that maybe he had misread their politeness as agreement. Closing his packet, he kept his eyes down, “T-Thank you for your time.”   
  
“Nicky,” Tom called over from the other side of the room, “if you could give us the room for a moment - “   
  
Nicky nodded and quietly pushed back his chair. He could feel Joe right behind him, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle him possibly hating the idea. Maybe he would think someone with his kind of money had no right to discuss the effects of poverty in the community -    
  
Luckily any fear drained from him as soon as Tom closed the door behind them, “Nicky - “   
He slowly looked up at Joe, and saw nothing but genuine amazement radiating off of him, “You’re brilliant.”   
  


* * *

Even though Joe thought he had said the right thing to cheer him on, Nicky seemed stunned to silence for a moment as he registered his compliment, “I - um, thank you.”    
  
Joe had to know more, a lot more, “I had no idea this is what you were up to - how long have you been working on this?”   
  
“I - I’ve been involved with the center for years, did some volunteering -,” he clutched the packet in front of his torso a little tighter, “but this program in particular, for a few weeks.”   
  
Joe pressed off the wall he had leaned against, hoping to reassure him, “They’d be pretty dumb not to approve it.” He didn’t want to mention what Tom had said earlier, in case the board decided against it after all. But he meant the words nonetheless. If they didn’t see the brilliance behind it, then they were the dumb ones, and Nicky had nothing to feel embarrassed about.

But still, his comment made Nicky chuckle, “Joe, th-that’s not a nice thing to say.”   
  
“I’ll say it anyway,” he faked annoyance, but gave Nicky a wide grin that seemed to make the tips of his ears turn pink, “this, Nicky - can really help people.”   
  
Nicky glanced down and quietly replied, “Thank you - “   
  
Just then, Tom came out, and addressed Nicky first, asking him to step back inside for a moment. Nicky looked over at Joe, and when Joe tipped his head towards the room to encourage him to go with a smile, he silently did. Tom remained by the open doorway, and Joe stepped up beside him and watched the various members of the board circle around Nicky - before congratulating him on the approval of the program.    
  
Nicky was immensely relieved and thanked them all individually - then offered up the snacks he had premade. Joe was starting to realize that whether he had gotten their approval this afternoon or not, Nicky had planned on making them something, simply as a kind gesture for their time. Because that’s just who Nicky was - kindness personified.    
  
He was about to step into the room himself, when Tom casually mentioned, “Now we just need to fundraise - “   
  
He was confused by the statement, “I thought Nicky’s idea was low cost?”   
  
“Sure, Nicky is volunteering the cooking classes, and I know - he’d work for free if we asked, but for tax purposes we sort of  _ have _ to pay him  _ something _ . Besides, he’ll be working in the fall full time - there’s more of a need as families come back from summer break.” Tom looked over at him, “He should be compensated for his meal plans, calls, emails, and coordinating classes - and, eventually, we might have to help train a second chef who can also offer classes on a different schedule than Nicky.”   
  
“Not to sound crude,” Joe reasoned, “but couldn’t Nicky just donate the money to the program?”   
  
“I actually asked him that, too -” Tom glanced back towards Nicky who had just finished passing out the last snack bag, “but Nicky has donated plenty in the past, and he told me he really wants to do this on his own, outside of his trust fund, and who could say ‘no’ to that?”   
  
Joe allowed his eyes to linger on Nicky, “- yeah, who could say no.”   


Nicky must have sensed his eyes on him, and looked back over in his direction - beaming with joy and pride. And why shouldn’t he? He was really going to help people . . .    
  
Afterwards, when they shoved the packets into the box and headed back to the car, Nicky looked like he was on cloud nine. Relieved,excited, and hopeful. But he did give Joe a questionable stare when he went to hold open the front passenger door of the car for him. But before he could ask, Joe leaned his forehead against the metal frame, “I have about sixty questions and don’t want to crane my head looking back at you.”    
  
Nicky gave him a smirk, and climbed into the front seat.   
  
All along the way, Joe asked him questions about the program - about the kind of foods he was using for the menus, how many hours he planned on working a week, the fundraiser that would happen in two weeks, and so on. And with every question he asked, Nicky seemed happier, and lighter, like the worry he had clung to all day had evaporated. He was so genuinely relaxed, that Joe couldn’t help but listen intently to the answers he gave, because he was just so relieved for him that he wasn’t biting his lip, or fidgeting in his chair.   
  


* * *

_ Di Genova Property _

_ Dinnertime . . . _

It was late afternoon by the time they got back, and Nicky saw that Andy, Quynh, and Lykon, had already pulled up. Which meant Joe was leaving soon. He was very grateful that Joe had come with him - even more so by how interested he seemed to be in wanting to know more about the food program - but seeing the weekend crew only reminded him that he would need to say goodbye soon.   
  
When Joe parked the car at the top of the hill, but before he turned it off, Nicky reached into the back seat and pulled out two boxes of food packages for Joe and Booker to enjoy on their trip home. Joe raised a curious eyebrow, but surely he must have known what it was, “Couple of fresh options - for the road.”    
  
“I hope you know you don’t have to make these every weekend?” but Joe took the packages from him nonetheless.   
  
And Nicky beamed, “But I want to?”   
  
“Okay,” Joe laughed as he reached for the door to step out first - but then he paused, before slowly looking back towards Nicky, “Um, just a heads up - next weekend, I’ll be staying here. Both Booker, and myself, I mean.”   
  
Nicky tilted his head, hopeful, “Why?”   
  
Joe dipped his head over to the other car in the driveway, that Andy, Quynh and Lykon were already stepping out of, “To help do some training with Lykon.”   
  
_ Oh.  _ “Of course, makes sense.”   
  
“I have to go and pack up, but hey, Nicky - “ Joe waited till Nicky was looking back at him, “I think you’re doing something really special here with this program, and maybe you can tell me more about it on Monday?”   
  
“I’d - I’d like that, Joe, thanks,” Joe stepped out, and though Nicky  _ really _ could have just opened his own door, this time he didn’t mind when Joe did it. They gave each other polite smiles, and Nicky greeted the others first, but he was more than ready to change into something more casual and call Nile to tell her  _ everything _ .    
  
Of course when he had shared the codename of IcePrince, she thought it was a rude assumption on their part. But once he explained that he wasn’t all that offended that they didn’t understand his silent blocks sometimes, she relented and was relieved to hear that they settled on something more simple. Naturally she squealed in happiness for him when he shared the news of the now approved food program, but what really made her excited was when Nicky suggested that maybe he’d like to go out and get a drink with her next Friday, after all.   
  
When she asked what had changed, he explained Joe would likely be there, and she whistled at the implication while he rolled his eyes, “That’s not happening, Nile - I - “ He paused for a moment, trying to explain it properly, “I just . . . 

feel more comfortable going somewhere with him, like - “   
  
“Like he could beat up any guy that comes at you wrong?”   
  
Nicky laughed and fell back into the bed, Felicia giving him a sleepy look at the shift of the mattress before dozing back off, “Something like that, yeah.”   
  
Nile cheered, “Next Friday it is, then.”   
  


* * *

_ Thirty minutes later . . .  _

Unbeknownst to either of them, once Joe and Booker had pulled away, a car pulled out from the row of parked ones down the road. It slowly approached the property, turning up the short entryway and stopped before the gate.    
  
The guard walked up to the metal divider, and told the man to roll his window down. He slowly approached the car and noticed the single male occupant, “Can I help you?”

“You can open the gate.”   
  
The guard shot him a look, before talking into the radio clipped to his shoulder and letting his supervisor know there was someone at the gate. The man looked annoyed, and impatient, but he ignored his glare and repeated the question Derek forwarded over the radio, “Who are you here to see?”   
  
“Lucio - “ he answered curtly, but said nothing else.   
  
“He’s expecting you?”   
  
“Not exactly,” the man’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, “Merrick sent me ahead.”   
  
Derek told the guard to ask his name but when he did, the man let out an exasperated sigh, and pulled down his sunglasses. He huffed as he reached into the bag on the passenger seat, and the guard instinctively placed his hand on the holstered gun attached to his belt. He was relieved when the stranger merely revealed an international passport as a form of ID.   
  
Stepping closer, he took it from the man, and repeated the name over the radio. After a moment, the gate opened, and the guard handed it back to him. He barely had a chance to step back, before the man moved the car forward slowly, "A guard will meet you at the top of the hill, Mr. Keane."

* * *

  
  


**NOTES:** Uh oh - look who showed up? Is Keane our bad guy? (*whispers* oh of course he has to be!) . . . but wait, then who tried running Nicky over a week and a half ago? Do we have _two_ bad guys?? Is it a conspiracy, or do we have two separate bad events coming up? Perpetrated by two bad people?? Hmmmmmm ~ guess you'll have to keep reading to find out ;)  


**Coming up next week!** . . . Joe comes back on Monday, and things aren't go so well for Nicky. But by Friday they seem to improve thanks to Joe's efforts. 

Then there's that evening at the club where - oh wait, I shouldn't spoil things. But hey, you'll find out in a week :)  


As always, comments and kudos feed me - tell me, how adorable and kind, and sweet are these two? Isn't it going to be a shame when we throw one thing after another at them soon and really test a pretty delicate bond forming here? Angst, angst, and violenceeeeeee coming up in the next couple of chapters - so bask in the endorphins of this one in the comments for now <3


	5. Third Week - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotionally _rough_ weekend Nicky finally works on processing some emotions - and learns a few things about Joe during an outing. Unfortunately someone else is watching from a far. And doesn't like what they see.
> 
> Then comes Friday, where a visit to a club helps reveal some truths - some confirmations, and some dark ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on the previous chapter you guys <3
> 
> This one got split up in two parts (and hey, we won't always be going by weeks, so heads up on that). But even so, it's 10k of the _full spectrum of emotions_ T~T We have some anxious/nerves, adorable friendships goals, sweet outings, oh-no-waittttt _who is that??_ , TWO FLASHBACKS, found family vibes, an actual confession of feelingsssss, secondhand embarrassment for a character, and an ending that - . . . well, read, you'll see.
> 
> I do want to take a moment to remind you of the tags above. Up until now, we've been sitting in more of a teen rating, but this chapter heads into mature - and explicit is around the corner. We got some applicable trigger warnings for anxiety discussed at length, as well as creepy vibes, and _spoiler_ reallllly skeevy sexual advances/implications (though no worries, someone to the rescue ;) )
> 
> See you at the end!! ;)

* * *

**"You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late."**

**\- Ralph Waldo Emerson**

* * *

_June 16th - Monday_

_Di Genova Property_

_Five in the morning_

  
  


They had just sat down at the large table in the otherwise empty staff common room, when Joe noticed the lack of smiles and greetings among his comrades. He looked at each of them, but their silence only made him shift uncomfortably on the bench, “What’s going on?”  
  
Andy looked hesitant to share, which was never a good sign, and Quynh leaned closer instead, “We aren’t really sure to be honest.”   
  
“Okay?” Joe’s brow furrowed, “So why are you guys being all quiet?”   
  
Lykon leaned back against the chair at the end of the table, thumbing the rim of his coffee cup, “Derek couldn’t make it this morning - kind of scrambling to catch up with the weekend.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Booker asked, before taking a bite out of his protein bar.   
  
Lykon’s eyes traveled over to Andy, and Joe followed his line of sight, starting to lose his patience. _Somebody_ needed to explain what the heck was going on, and why they were stalling to share it with him.   
  
“Someone arrived on Friday, right after you and Booker left,” Andy elaborated, though she looked downright uncomfortable, “Some guy who goes by Keane - “ She paused, before glancing up at him, “Merrick sent him ahead of his own arrival in two weeks.”   
  
Joe immediately tensed, his whole body feeling stiff and uneasy. Because the implications, the possibility of someone related to Merrick’s inner circle _just waltzing up to Nicky’s house_ , while _he_ wasn’t there left him feeling powerless.

Andy’s eyes stayed locked with his for a moment, before she quietly urged him to _‘take a breath.’_ It wasn’t an order really, there was no malice in her voice, but she knew him all too well, could read his uncomfortability so easily. Joe released some of the tension by exhaling it through his nostrils, then uncurled the tight fists in his lap, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt, “I’m guessing this was an unplanned visit, and the DEA is _scrambling_ to keep their investigation sealed while dealing with some sort of ‘henchman’ lurking around?”   
  
Quynh agreed, “Basically - “   
  
Joe rubbed one hand over his weary face, before moving it to the back of his neck to help rub some of the stiffness out, “What do we know about this guy?”   
  
“Nothing, really,” Andy shrugged, “His name is Keane, and he’s some sort of head of security guy for Merrick. But Lucio told Derek he’s never seen him arrive weeks beforehand.” She took a moment to continue, and Joe knew her stalling this long likely she meant she knew _exactly_ how the next sentence would affect him, “The agents said he and Copley should allow Keane to stay on the property so they can keep an eye on him - “   
  
Joe immediately paused massaging the stiff muscle in his shoulder, and narrowed his eyes at her, “He’s _here_ ?”   
  
“Yeah, it wasn’t Derek’s favorite plan either,” Quynh quickly added, but it didn’t help. It was bad enough having to worry about a double agent in the home, now someone close to Merrick was staying here, too? It was like the dangers around Nicky were piling up, and Joe was starting to feel downright dizzy with how he was _ever_ going to keep him safe. He was glad he had already told Andy he was spending the weekend, that helped his nerves a little bit, but only barely. He feared how he might come across to Nicky if he had to camp out in his living room soon, but his mind contemplated the ludicrous idea for one, brief, paranoid moment.   
  
“So, _so far_ ,” Booker gestured with the half eaten protein bar, trying to make light of the situation, “We need to look out for a double agent who is itching for vehicular manslaughter, and some goon involved with Merrick who is our new roommate? Anything else?”   
  
He chuckled at his own joke, but when the other three at the table exchanged pensive looks, he let it drop. Joe felt his heart flip flop, he really wasn’t sure if he could handle much more.   
  
“I think,” Quynh finally spoke up, giving Joe a sad look, “that - that Nicky isn’t doing too well right now.”   
  
The possibilities swirled inside of his mind, and he began with the most obvious question, “Because of this Keane guy?”   
  
“What?” Quynh tilted her head, “Oh _no_ , I - none of us have seen him do anything but walk around chatting with the agents he thinks are guards.” She looked between Andy and Lykon for a moment of confirmation, “And Copley once or twice?” They both nodded in agreement, which helped his nerves, even if just a little.   
  
“So what’s going on with Nicky?”   
  
“He - he just seems worried?” Lykon shared, “We tried asking him about it, but he said it’s just work related. But - he hasn’t gone swimming since Friday, barely eaten - ”   
  
“I’m going to go check on him - “Joe already began pushing the bench back he was sitting on with his legs, not really minding the fact that Booker was using it as well. He had to hurriedly reach for the edge of the table in order to keep himself from tipping over, and muttered a quiet, _‘mon ami’_ under his breath.   
  
“Joe, he’s still asleep - “ Andy tried to point out.   
  
“No,” Joe easily dismissed what he had assumed was a suggestion, “he’s been getting up with the sunrise - “   
  
“Not since Friday,” she declared, halting his movements.   
  
That seemed concerning, and he sank back onto the bench, “Maybe - he’s worried about the fundraiser next week then?”   
  
“Maybe,” Quynh raised her right shoulder, “I’m sorry, Joe.” 

_Three Hours Later . . ._

  
Sure enough, when Joe had stepped into the main living area, it was empty. Nicky wasn’t outside, or in the kitchen, like he had grown accustomed to seeing at the start of his shift, and Joe quietly sat down at the island, _waiting._ After a good half hour he decided to make himself some tea, and had no problem letting the cabinet doors bang against their frame, almost _hoping_ Nicky would come out to see what the racket was about. But still, nothing.   
  
He tried to sketch, and to read, even scrolled through his phone for a while - but when it got closer to nine, he finally caved and walked towards Nicky’s room. He raised his hand to knock on the door, and hesitated only for a moment, before giving it a quick succession of two thumps.   
  
It took a minute, but when Joe heard Nicky shuffling just on the other side, he stood up a little straighter, hoping to greet him with a smile. Unfortunately, it faltered some at the sight of him. 

On one hand, Nicky did look downright cozy in his oversized pajama top that draped over his bare thighs, and his rolled down socks were an adorable touch. And though it felt even more intimate to see him like this versus the speedo he liked to live in, when Joe saw his worn face, he felt nothing but concern for him. Joe was certain he recovered enough by the time Nicky raised his weary eyes at him, but he still likely revealed some of his unease anyways.   
  
Nicky tended to have shadows under his eyes irregardless of how well he slept, but that morning they looked deep set, and darker than usual. His lips looked dried, and chapped - _or maybe he picked at them_ \- and he barely managed a faint smile in greeting Joe _‘good morning’_. 

_What’s wrong, what happened?_ “Good morning, I just wanted to check in - “ he paused, unsure how to share his concern in case Nicky didn’t want to talk about it, “You missed your coffee this morning.”   
  
Nicky stared up at him for a moment, and Joe wasn’t sure how to read it. 

. . . He wondered if one day he would be able to discern every look he gave him.   
  
“I - “ Nicky started, then stopped.   
  
Joe leaned against the door frame, hoping he wasn’t speaking out of turn, “Is everything okay?”   
  
Nicky glanced down, and mumbled, “I’m - I’m not sure, to be honest.” 

He didn’t explain further though, even when Joe waited for him to, and he wondered if he had overstepped after all, “I just wanted to check, and hey, I’m just out there in the living room if you need anything.” He pushed off the frame, standing upright, “But I can give you space.”   
  
He said it with a smile, hoping Nicky could hear the affirming tone in his voice, but he had barely taken a step back when Nicky hurriedly looked up, “I - I don’t want space.”   
  
“Okay,” Joe paused mid step, “How can I help?”   
  
Nicky ran his top teeth over his bottom lip, his fingers flexing beside his legs, “Can - can you drive me somewhere?”   
  
“Of course,” Joe assured him, “Where do you want to go?”   
  
“I don’t _have_ to do it today -” Nicky muttered, as if trying to give Joe an out if he decided he didn’t want to help after all, before raising his tired eyes up at him, “but, the farmer’s market on 9th? It’s about thirty minutes from here.”   
  
Joe took a step closer, a soft grin tugging at his lips, “Sure, let me just give Booker a heads up, and I’ll meet you in the front?” 

He was already turning around when he heard Nicky’s shaky voice, “- Joe wa-wait.”  
  
He looked back at him from over his shoulder, “Yes?”   
  
Nicky was looking down again, this time his fingers were fidgeting with the hem of his top, “Could you - could you just meet me here when you’re ready?”   
  
“At your room?”   
  
“Yes, so - so we could walk out together?” Nicky cautiously lifted his eyes to him. When Joe gave him a quick _‘okay’_ , it seemed to help steady his nerves a bit. He even looked a little relieved, “And - “   
  
Joe waited, tipping his head a bit when Nicky didn’t immediately finish the sentence, “And?”   
  
Nicky’s grip tightened around the edge of his top, but he did _sort_ of smile as he asked, “Could you maybe try to change into something that doesn’t make you look like my bodyguard?”   
  
Joe instantly relaxed at the suggestion, glad it wasn’t something more serious than that. He could handle going incognito for Nicky if it helped him feel more comfortable at the market. He gave him a smirk, “Camouflage?”   
  
Nicky made a face, and deadpanned, “Please, no camo.” 

“I - “ Joe’s eyes widened for a moment, ‘ _that’s not what I meant’_. But not entirely sure if Nicky was being serious, or sarcastic, decided to err on the side of caution, “Um, sure, no camo.”

Explaining he’d be back shortly, Joe headed to his and Booker’s room, trying not to wake his partner while he went and changed into something more casual. He settled for a plain gray shirt, black pants, and his favorite worn leather jacket. Depending on if the market was indoor or outdoor, he’d likely have to sling the jacket over his arm, but he had to admit it did look good on him (not that he was _trying_ to look good for Nicky or anything, he reasoned). Joe definitely worried about whatever was going on with him, but if Nicky was feeling up to leaving his house, he hoped that meant he wasn’t nearly as bad off as he had feared. He made sure to send Booker a quick message in case they didn’t get back till late, though he doubted it would take all that long.

Once he made his way back to Nicky’s room, he knocked on the door again, and Nicky opened it wearing his usual shirt and jeans that he liked to roll along his arms and ankles. Though he did switch it up by sporting some retro sunglasses that he was likely using to hide the under eye shadows. But even with the glasses obscuring his eyes, he did notice the slight tilt to Nicky’s head as he scanned Joe up and down. 

He didn’t say anything though, so Joe grinned instead, “Ready?”  
  
Nicky shook his head, closing the door behind him and they walked out to the staff parking area for the SUV Joe was supposed to use when transporting him. He made sure to have the charger for Nicky’s phone plugged in, and some more gum if he felt like it would help. And if Nicky really needed it, he would even pick him up some coffee through a drive through without as much as an eye roll. _Whatever_ had been going on with him this weekend, Joe really hoped some time away from the house would help.   
  
And the truth was, so long it was just the two of them, Joe felt his own sense of peace returning. The stress faded away, and he could just enjoy Nicky’s company without constantly worrying who else was around him. _Though . . ._ his job wasn’t about enjoying being near him - and Joe knew he needed to be mindful of that.   
  
However, neither Nicky, or Joe, seemed to notice the man watching them near the entrance way window. His eyes narrowed at the sight of them walking to the car together, and his fists clenched when he saw Nicky smiling at Joe holding the door open for him. 

* * *

_9th Street Farmer’s Market_

_40 Minutes Later_

Joe had parked the SUV on the grass where an attendant had directed him to, before walking around to get the door for Nicky. 

He had decided to sit in the front passenger seat again, and was thankful when he had offered to pick Nicky up an iced coffee along the way. The green straw was thoroughly chewed on by the time they had arrived, but the caffeine helped him not feel as tired as he had earlier. He hadn’t meant to pull _another_ all nighter, but too many things were on his mind. 

Though it was hard to tell _which_ issue was making him most anxious.. It was like his mind kept filtering through memories, fears, _and_ impending possibilities on a loop. Refusing to slow down long enough for him to examine and figure out _which_ one needed the most attention. So his mind gave them _all_ the attention, _and_ energy, they seemed to demand. But it was his body that kept cycling through the unprocessed emotions, and after three nights of it, he was thoroughly worn out both physically _and_ mentally.   
  
He knew he could trace it back to Friday, the day that started with faint hope and led to the wonderful news of the food program approval that he had been working towards for weeks. _Then_ came Tom’s email that evening, a whole slew of to do’s to _‘go over when you can before the fundraiser’_ , and though he had insisted there was _‘no rush’_ Nicky felt the need to check off every item as quickly as he could. At the top of the list were cold calls for potential donors to invite to the fundraiser next Thursday, as well as reserving tables, chairs and food donations. Tom planned on calling half the list on Monday, for anyone Nicky _‘didn’t get to by the afternoon’_. 

Just the memory of reading that email made him cling to his cup harder as he stepped down onto the grass. It was hard enough to talk to strangers, but the thought of calling them to ask for money _and_ items for a fundraiser?   
  
Then of course there was Keane.   
  
He hadn’t seen the man in _years_ , and even then it wasn’t in more than passing. Most of his memories of Keane came from the summer when he was seventeen, when he and Lucio spent a few weeks at Merrick’s summer home in England. It was mostly for networking between various corporate workers but Nicky had been going through a bit of a wild streak and did not slow down just because his father was nearby.   
  
Keane had caught him more than once messing around with one of the staff members, but thankfully never told on him. Though even now he wondered if his father would have really cared all that much. They never had a talk about sex, or his sexuality, but he didn’t exactly hide either of those things. The only time Lucio really seemed to care about much of anything he was doing as a teenager, was when he caught Nicky smoking two years earlier. He was angry, and defensive, implying Nicky would _‘kill himself’_ by keeping up with such a reckless habit. But Lucio didn’t say anything about missing him if he died - and Nicky was too afraid to ask if he would. Afraid to ask, and afraid to hear an answer that might confirm that fear.   
  
Keane’s appearance on Friday night was like a ghost from the past, reminding Nicky of just how wild and reckless he used to be. That man knew a little _too_ much about him, and it made him uncomfortable. Worse though, once he had spotted Nicky, he seemed far too eager to ‘catch up’ with him. He tried to apply a familiarity to the conversation that was simply unmatched from Nicky’s end, and he was eager to find a way to leave the room as soon as he could. It didn’t help when Keane seemed to notice and stepped _even closer_ to him. The words of concern were spoken in a low voice, but his body language and tone made Nicky’s skin itch, and he just felt too overwhelmed to continue. Citing the need to work on a project, he excused himself and walked away. 

Somehow, Nicky had managed to convince himself he was just far too busy with the impending fundraiser and work, to warrant leaving his room all that often over the weekend. But if he was being honest with himself, the possibility of running into Keane again didn’t help.   
  
“Nicky, you can stop now, the straw is dead.”   
  
Nicky blinked up at Joe who was looking down at him with a broad smile, likely trying to tease him, while he slowly pulled the empty cup away from his mouth. It did look pretty worn both from his fidgety grip along the plastic rim, but also the straw whose tip was split from his teeth, “Oh, _right_ .”   
  
He turned his torso slightly, leaving the cup on his seat, before walking around Joe who shut the car door, “So, what exactly do you need from here?”   
  
Nicky, in an effort to hide his shaky hands, shoved them in his back pockets, “Tom asked if I could make a sample menu plan to share at the fundraiser, and he told me about these food vouchers the county gives families to use at certain booths in the markets here.” He glanced over towards the entrance nearby, “It’s not very much for a family of four, but it would be nice to add some fresh fruits and vegetables to the menu.”   
  
“And you’re here to see how much the vouchers would be able to buy?”   
  
“Probably not much, I’m sure,” Nicky speculated, “but I want to make the serving sizes appropriate, and see how many I could stretch over multiple days worth with a meal plan.”   
  
“I’ll say it again,” Nicky could feel Joe’s eyes on him, as they continued to walk towards the entrance, “You’re brilliant.”   
  
Nicky bit his lip, and rolled his eyes, trying to not to let the compliment go to his head, “I’m an anxious mess, remember?”   
  
Joe still grinned, seemingly not deterred by that all, “Well, let’s see if we can check this off the list and help you feel less anxious.”   
  
“I doubt that,” Nicky countered, “my to do list includes this menu plan, and about ten calls I need to get done today.” 

Naturally, Joe asked him what that entailed, and once Nicky explained the cold call donation list, and reservations, Joe waved his hand as if that was nothing, “I can help you with that.”  
  
Nicky actually stopped before reaching the first booth and looked up at him incredulously, “What?”   
  
“I can make calls,” he offered, “I’m told I’m quite the talker.”   
  
Nicky’s cheeks felt warm, and he glanced down. He only mustered a weak protest, trying desperately not to sound too hopeful at the prospect, “Th-That’s not in your job description.”

“I know,” Joe answered easily, his smile evident even in Nicky’s peripherals, “but I still want to.”  
  
He could barely nod in agreement, and was more than grateful for having chosen the sunglasses. It helped him feel like he could hopefully hide his excitement a little. Later on when they did get home, Joe would insist Nicky work on the menu plan and give him the call list. Sure enough, in two hours, he had managed to secure _all_ ten donors and Nicky had a hard time not hugging him with gratitude. Joe was completely nonchalant about it, told him _‘anytime’_ , and then asked Nicky to show him the menu plan, which he glanced over with equally matched enthusiasm.   
  
_But for now_ , they explored the various booths, looking for the signs that said which ones accepted the vouchers. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like there were too many, and Nicky felt sorry for the families who might have such limited choices in their food options. But he was utterly determined, even as they approached the third row of booths. 

By now, Joe did take off that downright dashing looking leather jacket, draping it over his right shoulder, and letting it hang over his back by his hooked finger. He looked like something out of a vintage film, and Nicky couldn’t help but stare at him more than once when he hoped he didn’t notice.   
  
At the end of the third row Nicky spotted a large flower stand, and he sort of meandered over there enjoying the familiar aromas that brought back memories of happier times. He hadn’t meant to get lost in the scents and smells wafting around him, but even when Joe walked up beside him, Nicky didn’t rush to pull back.

“You should buy some,” Joe suggested casually, his jacket now folded over his arm.  
  
 _‘Doubt my Dad would like to see them’_ , “Not really on the budget for today,” Nicky lied.   
  
Joe looked over the various displays and smiled, “I should send my Mama some, maybe some pressed petals in a card.”   
  
Nicky thought that was a sweet idea and pointed at an arrangement not too far from him, “You could pick the yellow pansies, they mean _‘thinking of you’_ .”   
  
Joe looked pleasantly surprised, “Now where did you learn _that_ ?”   
  
_‘My mom’_ , “Around.”   
  
He was grateful when Joe turned back around inspecting the various flowers, seemingly unaware that Nicky’s mind retreated into the silence. It wasn’t always this painful, but the anniversary was next week, and that tended to bring the memories closer to the surface.   
  
“I think I’ll just take a picture of the booth,” Joe’s voice brought him back into the moment, and Nicky slowly opened his eyes, “She’s always hounding me to send her pictures of what I’m up to - and I can’t really send her the pics of us in body armor and surrounded by guns without getting calls.” He chuckled at the idea as he pulled out his cellphone, swiping at the screen to pull up his camera, “Do you mind being in the pic?”   
  
Nicky could feel his body trying to make itself smaller, as he slowly retreated behind a nearby display of flowers, “I’m not so sure about that - I - I don’t really look like my best today.”   
  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Joe assured, yet still shifted his phone away from Nicky’s direction, “but I’ll just take a few photos over here then.”   
  
Nicky stepped out, watching him snap several different bouquets, glad that Joe hadn’t agreed with his self assessment, but also not insisting on a picture if he didn’t want to. It made him feel even more comfortable around him. 

When Joe was done, he sent them off via text message, and Nicky hoped he didn’t mind him asking, “Do you - like to take pictures? I - I mean I know you like to draw and paint, but do you photograph as well?”  
  
Joe put the phone in his back pocket, and tipped his head, “Curse of the artist, I guess.”   
  
“Anything else?”   
  
“I play the guitar,” Joe answered, before sort of chuckling at himself, “Well, a couple of songs - mostly stuff my mom insisted on for music therapy.”   
  
“Music therapy?” Nicky was surprised, he had done that one, too “For what?”   
  
“Just kid stuff . . . “ Joe’s voice trailed off, and he kept his eyes forward as they continued walking.   
  
Nicky had been so forthcoming about his own anxiety, that he hadn’t really thought Joe wouldn’t tell him if he had something similar he struggled with. Though he shouldn’t have assumed the same comfortability around the subject. Just because Joe seemed considerate of Nicky’s anxiety, didn’t automatically mean he would want to talk about whatever sort of therapy he had done for himself.   
  
Nicky was just about to apologize for asking, when Joe finally spotted what they had come for, “Oh hey, there’s a booth that says it takes those vouchers, let’s check them out.”   
  
Nicky quietly mumbled, _‘Alright,’_ while Joe began to head over to it. He wondered if maybe he could talk to Joe about it on the way back home. Let him know he didn’t have to talk about anything he didn’t want to with him. Though he did hope that one day Joe might feel comfortable enough to share. But for now, Nicky followed behind him - 

\- unaware of the man that was standing off in the distance, taking a photo of him.   
  
  


* * *

_June 20th - Friday_

_Di Genova Property_

_Late Afternoon_

The last couple of days had gone better.  
  
Nicky’s nerves seemed to be less frayed, and he started sleeping better again once things had been organized for the fundraiser next Thursday. Joe really hadn’t minded with the call list, and even Booker chipped in by hunting down a local party rental business for extra tables when Tom’s usual source ran out. Nicky of course apologized for the inconvenience and _‘not realizing beforehand how much would be involved’_ , but neither were all that bothered by it. 

And thanks to their support, Nicky did come up with a lovely menu plan and even asked Joe to draw some designs on it for a more personal touch. He and Nile were currently on their way back from the print shop, picking up copies of the finished menu, to hand out at the fundraiser.

They were all around for the weekend, and though technically the evening would have been Andy’s shift, she didn’t bat an eye when Joe asked that he and Booker go out with Nicky and Nile to the club later. But she insisted that before he got ready, he’d need to show Lykon a _‘thing or two’_ about sparring with someone bigger than him, and Joe gave her a lopsided grin. After Andy secured permission with Lucio about, they were now gathered on a level, grassy area not far from the staff pool.   
  
He knew Andy’s training was more than thorough, and size really didn’t matter if you had the right moves. But Lykon was smaller than him and it was good to practice adaptive strategies based on the opponent’s size. Really the whole thing was more in good fun than anything else, yet several staff members had gathered into their outdoor space, curious to see how it would go. “Alright, there you go.”   
  
Joe looked down at his wrapped knuckles, and gave Booker two fists bumps before standing up. Lykon stood about twenty feet away, seemingly ready to go, and Quynh moved into the middle to remind everyone where the boundaries were. Joe gave his body one final stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and bending his knees and elbows as he moved into place. Even though he still enjoyed using his punching bag on the weekends, most of what he did now was merely muscle memory from his past. 

He had learned how to use street fighting as an outlet for his anger in his teens, but before that, it was his mom who had to set him straight . . . 

* * *

_Yusuf could hear the children around him yelling to let him go, but he ignored them. It didn’t matter what they wanted, this bully deserved it for picking on kids much smaller than him. Kids who couldn’t protect themselves, and kids who were too nice to admit just how hard school was with cowards like this one._ _  
_ _  
_ _When Yusuf had turned in the alley and saw him shoving a child against the plastered wall, he didn’t think, just lunged. Pulled him down onto the ground by his collar and started pummeling into him as hard as he could. He was only thirteen, never been in a fight before, and the kid’s screams should have told him he was taking it too far, but he couldn’t stop. It felt too good to finally allow some of that rage loose. To find a release for it, and punish someone who thought they could treat others like that._ _  
_ _  
_ _Some local kids had gathered around them, at first curious, then mortified as the bully’s nose bent out of shape with a crunch after a particularly vicious hit. Once it started bleeding one of the children in the circle ran away likely to get help, but even then, Yusuf couldn’t stop. And when the bully cried out in pain, he wrapped his hands around his throat, truly wondering if he should squeeze -_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Yusuf!”_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘No’, he thought, ‘let me’._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Yusuf, stop!”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Familiar hands, his mother’s, curled underneath his arms. She asked some of the other kids for help when he didn’t initially pull back, and once he felt more hands on him, finally released his grip on the bully’s throat. He coughed, and wailed over his broken nose, but Yusuf didn’t care. He stopped caring about anything a while ago. It had felt good in the moment to have something to take that anger out on, but now that the adrenaline was seeping out of him, he was left with the worst emotion: grief._ _  
_ _  
_ _He yanked his arm away from his mother, and shot her an angry, tear filled, glare. She let go of him so he could stand up, but was right on his heels as they walked home together in silence. But if he had hoped that was the end of it, that she would be too mortified by his behavior to comment on it just yet, he was mistaken. As soon as she had closed the door to their apartment, she turned around with her hands on her hips, “I won’t even ask why - “_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You know why!” Yusuf raised his voice, but immediately regretted it. He looked down, embarrassed, unsure if he was trembling from the fight, the emotions, or both._ _  
_ _  
_ _His mother took a deep breath, and stepped closer. She didn’t force him to look at her, which he appreciated with the tears gathering in his eyes, but her words still cut him just as deeply, “You don’t think I’m angry, too?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yusuf’s breath caught in his throat, releasing on a hitch, and the tears that had threatened to spill over laced through his eye lashes as he clamped his eyes shut. She wanted to talk about him, he didn’t. She was the one who prayed for him, he couldn’t. She had a way of dealing with things, and they weren’t his - though she would now insist he try them, “You are coming to my painting class tomorrow.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Finally he looked up at her, wide eyes staring at her in disbelief, “For what?”_ _  
_ _He had refused to touch a paint brush in months, what did it matter now?_ _  
_ _  
_ _But without hesitation, or fear, she lifted her hands to either side of his face, and with seemingly endless patience answered, “Because you have to find other outlets.”_

* * *

It took weeks of art therapy, all kinds really, but slowly the anger and frustration abated. At least enough for him to process some of the reasons he was so angry in the first place. He did get in with a bit of a rough crowd a few years later, and enjoyed street fighting immensely, but even then it was at least slightly under control. Yet, he knew he couldn’t exactly make a living off of art, or the fighting, and settled for a security position at local bars. Most patrons knew how to behave themselves, but of course there was always the random drunk who wanted to prove how tough he was by picking a fight with Joe.  
  
It was actually after one such rowdy session, when Joe ducked his flailing arms easily and avoided a busted up beer bottle he was flinging at him, that he met Andy. She seemed to have stepped out of the darkness, and applied a firm grip to some pressure point in the man’s neck which made him slump to the curb. By the time Joe raised his surprised eyes up at her, she shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal and asked him if he’d like _‘a career change’._   
  
Turned out she had been watching him for a week, and thought he had potential after winning a local fight. Even now, Joe wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t blow her off immediately. But when she handed him her business card, and said the job would involve traveling, he knew why he would have to accept it. He was itching to leave, and after his training was done, he hadn’t been back home since.

“Joe, you might want to duck!”  
  
Quynh’s accented voice echoed around his memory, and Joe managed to bend his legs enough to avoid Lykon’s elbow. He was aiming for his shoulder, likely to grab him and knee him lightly in the stomach to bring him down, but as fast as Lykon was, Joe still managed to block the move. He could hear some of the staff shouting various cheers at them both, and Joe winked over at Lykon, egging him on to try harder.   
  
The whole thing didn’t take more than five minutes though. He let Lykon get a few swings in, but easily maneuvered him down to the ground, pinning his arms into the grass and keeping his lower weight on his thighs to prevent him from getting up.   
  
Once Quynh declared the win, Joe hopped up to his feet and extended his hand to Lykon who took it with a smile. They gave each other a quick hug and Lykon even teased that he appreciated Joe showing him _‘what not to do next time.’_

Joe joked right back, _‘anytime’_ , while Booker began untangling the knuckle bindings. While waiting, he happened to notice that Nicky and Nile had returned from the shop, and were standing near Andy. Her and Nile were talking, but Nicky was staring at Joe with wide eyes - till he realized he had been caught, then hurriedly glanced down.   
  
Joe knew he likely looked more than a bit disheveled. He could feel the dewy skin from the light sweat he had formed from the fight, and was still catching his breath a little. Still, when Nicky looked back over at him, Joe raised his chin to greet him from across the way. Nicky moved his hand from the papers he was clutching, and gave a small wave.

Lykon, Booker and Quynh were chatting, Andy and Nile were discussing something off to the side, and with everyone else seemingly preoccupied in conversation, Joe walked over to Nicky to ask about the finished product, “Are those the menus?”  
  
Nicky blinked, “Hm?”   
  
Joe pointed at the sheets he was beginning to crumple between his hands, “The menus for the fundraiser?”   
  
Nicky looked down at the stack, “Right - yes, the menus. Um here.” He pulled them away from his chest, and Joe leaned closer so he could see how the design he had come up with blended with the calligraphy Nicky chose. It looked pretty nice, and he even said so, but Nicky only muttered a quiet _‘thank you’_ .   
  
“Everything ok?”   
  
Nicky’s eyes shot up to him, before bringing the papers close his chest again, “Yup - “   
  
Seemed like maybe he was about to say more, and Joe waited a moment, but when he didn’t he gave him a soft smile, “Okay. Well I’m going to take a shower and get ready for dinner.” Joe noticed the way Nicky’s fingers tightened around the stack, but he wasn’t exactly sure why, “What time did you want to leave?”   
  
Nicky did manage to offer a light grin at the question, “Eight?”   
  
“Alright,” Joe agreed, “see you at dinner?”   
  
Nicky nodded and they both walked inside together, Joe heading further into the staff wing, while Nicky likely made his way to his room. It was strange though, if Joe didn’t know any better, he’d think Nicky was nervous. 

* * *

  
_Nicky’s Bedroom_

_Two Hours Later . . ._

Nicky was in his walk in closet, swiping through various shirts on the hangers and starting to get more frustrated as he pushed one after another from left to right. He could have sworn he had laid out his outfit for the club before Nile had even arrived, but by the time they had returned to his room after dinner with the team, it wasn’t on the chair. The pants and shoes were there, but not the shirt, and now he couldn’t find it on the hangers either. 

He let out a frustrated huff, before settling for the red silk button down with the short sleeves. He normally tended to pair them with a cotton shirt underneath, but for tonight he buttoned it up and left the top two undone. It showed off the top of his chest nicely and he tucked the bottom into the black slacks, figuring it would look good enough for tonight.  
  
“Nile,” he called out from the closet, “Are you almost ready?”   
  
“Almost,” she replied from in his room, and he stepped out to find her at his vanity area, sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup. Her silver teardrop earrings swayed a little as she applied a pink lipstick color to her lips, while her braids were gathered into two buns at the top of her head. Her pastel blue dress flared at her hips, draping softly over her knees, while her legs were crossed at the ankle.   
  
She hadn’t noticed him standing there yet, and a memory of his mom came to mind as he quietly watched her for a moment:

* * *

_Nicky was watching his Mama from the doorframe of her large bedroom. His Dad and her were going to some fancy event, a networking thing that required him in a suit and her in a formal dress. She was already a beautiful woman, but she looked particularly stunning that evening in her red dress, and done up hair. Her large silver earrings moved ever so slightly as she applied the finishing touches to her make up, but she smiled when she spotted Nicky in the reflection of the mirror behind her._ _  
_ _  
_ _She lowered her hand slightly, and greeted him warmly, “Topolino, I thought you were already asleep for the evening.” Turning on the tufted stool, she opened her arms to him, “Come here - it’ll be our little secret.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Nicky, who was barely six, rushed forward hoping for a moment with her before his nanny realized he had snuck away from his room. She gathered him up into her lap, giving him a light squeeze while he glanced down at all the various lipstick colors his mother had laid out to pick from._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Do you like the pretty colors?” he could feel her breath tickle near his ear, and he nodded, “Would you like to try one, just for a moment?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _He grinned, and Oriana asked him which one he’d like. His little hand reached for the pink one, and she leaned over to grab it for him. She puckered her lips, and encouraged him to do so as well, before carefully gliding it over his soft lips. Then she showed him how to blend it, and he mimicked what she did before suggesting he take a look in the mirror. When he did he sort of tipped his head a little, not exactly sure if it looked as good on him as it did on her. But he did appreciate it when she wrapped her arms around his torso and told him he looked ‘pretty’._ _  
_ _  
_ _But Nicky made a face and scoffed, “I’m handsome, you’re pretty.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Then maybe you just need more lipstick -” and before Nicky knew what was happening, she dipped her face close to his and began to pepper him with several kisses along his cheek and even his ear and neck. It tickled and he giggled against her, but she abated after having thoroughly smeared most of her own lipstick off._ _  
_ _  
_ _She laughed and reached for some cloth to help clean him off, but paused when he looked a little sullen at her, “I’m sorry that you have to redo it.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Oh Topolino, I chose to kiss you,” she leaned in and gave him one more kiss on his cheek, “And I’m not sorry about it.” Nicky smiled and leaned back against her while she began to wipe off the various lipstick stains off of his skin, “Besides, your father can wait an extra five minutes - “_ _  
_ _  
_ _Once he was all cleaned up, she glanced over his face making sure she got it all, “Though I suppose I should be considerate of everyone else’s time at the party.” She carefully helped Nicky back onto his feet, and ran her hand over his hair, before kissing his forehead gently, “How about you go lie down, and I promise I’ll come say ‘goodnight’ before we leave?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Nicky nodded, turning to leave the room, but just as he reached the door, Oriana called after him, “Nicolò?” He paused and looked back at her, “If you were going to the party - would you want your date to wear a dress like Mama, or a suit like Dad?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Nicky gave her a confused look, not really sure why she was asking, “A suit.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _She smiled back at him, and he turned around to leave the room._

* * *

The memory was always a bittersweet one. His mother had died before they ever had a chance to discuss his sexuality, but memories like that one did make Nicky wonder if she had known. Though really he wanted to roll his eyes at his six year old self. Who cared if his date was wearing a dress, or a suit? _Nile_ could have chosen a suit for tonight, _and rocked it_ . But back then, he simply meant he wanted to go on a date with a guy. Didn’t matter what his dates have chosen to wear to them.   
  
‘ _Except camo’_ , Nicky thought back to Joe’s teasing comment before they went to the farmer’s market together last Monday, _‘I draw the line at camo’_.

“You look nice,” Nile smiled up at him from the chair, pulling him from his reflections.

Nicky folded his hands in front of him, “Thanks, you do, too.”  
  
But he knew that coy smirk before she even gleamed up at him, he braced himself for whatever she was about to suggest, “So, are you finally going to make a move tonight?”

“Come on, Nile,” Nicky rolled his eyes as he moved his hands behind his back, and leaned against the wall, “don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
Nile stood up from the chair, reaching for the thin jacket she was planning to wear with her dress, and Felicia bounced a little trying to catch the fabric as it dangled above her. Once she lifted it to her arms, Felicia gave up and hopped off the bed to meander to her litter box in the bathroom, “I’m pretty sure even Joe noticed the way you were staring at him earlier. Might as well cap the night off with an epic declaration of intent.”   
  
_‘Earlier’_ , Nicky pondered, _‘was just a fluke’_ . _Anyone_ who would have walked in on Joe wearing those slim cargo pants, and that tight tank, _sparring_ would have paused like he had. The sight of Joe’s muscles flexing, and tensing, as he moved around with Lykon was downright mesmerizing. And when he managed to pin Lykon underneath him, glistening with a light layer of sweat, _and_ breathing hard, Nicky had all _sorts_ of thoughts that travelled straight to his groin.   
  
Joe definitely didn’t help anything when he walked over to Nicky afterwards, all smiles and charisma, asking him how the menus turned out. And when he tried to show him the finished product, Joe leaned over a little, and Nicky got a whiff of his scent. How he smelled _that_ good even when sweating, seemed downright unfair but still he found himself wanting to lean closer.   
  
Then Joe had to declare he was off to take a shower, and Nicky barely made it back to his own room for a cold one. 

When Nile seemed to realize he was not going to indulge her, she changed the subject instead, asking him what he thought of the TOG team _‘in general’_ . He had noticed Nile and Andy hunched close together at the dinner table, seemingly in deep conversation, but he had been distracted by Joe who seemed as cheerful as ever while laughing with Booker and Lykon. It wasn’t that Nicky felt like the third (or well, seventh) wheel at the table, but he was a little lost in his thoughts while pushing his food around on the plate.   
  
Nicky contemplated how a _usual_ night at the club ended for him . . . and if tonight he and Joe would indulge in _something_ . He still knew it was a bad idea, he had just told himself the week before how he wouldn’t allow anything more than flirtatious behavior. _But -_ it wasn’t just that Joe was shaped like a friggin Adonis. He was charming, almost radiant, read middle eastern poetry in his free time, and actually had heard of (and been to) some of the countries Nicky had traveled to. Which was definitely not the usual kind of man he had gone for in his one night stands. Though to be fair, he didn’t exactly have discussions of culture on the mind when he went home with someone.   
  
And for whatever reason, Joe didn’t seem to bat an eye at Nicky’s often fraught nerves. He thought of him even outside of his shift, helped Nicky with that dreaded call list, and called him _‘brilliant’, twice_ . He felt comfortable around Joe in some ways, nervous in others, but always . . . well, _safe_. 

As Nile stepped into her high heels, resting her hand on Nicky’s arm for balance, she teased that he hoped he’d have himself a _‘good time’_ tonight. Maybe he could, he reasoned, and if things ended badly, he could simply blame the alcohol for making him flirty. _No harm done._

* * *

_The Club_

_Eleven p.m._

Okay, he was definitely drunk. 

Nicky had hoped he was merely tipsy, but after downing one too many fruity cocktails in the last hour and a half, he knew it was time to head home. Worse, his grandiose plan of being extra flirty with Joe had backfired horribly when Booker and him had decided to sit two booths away to give Nile and him privacy during _‘their night out’_ . Nicky had wanted to protest, even invited them to squeeze in with them, but they insisted and were both enjoying club sodas from afar.   
  
Nile had made private toasts to celebrate his graduation, _and_ his new job, but by then Nicky wasn’t nearly as much in the mood as he had been at the beginning of the night. With the lights beginning to give him a headache, he wearily glanced at Nile and asked if they could just get going. She reached out to him, being one of the lucky people who could down three drinks and only end up _more_ giggly (and with no hangovers the next day). Her voice was light and airy as she suggested a quick bathroom break before the long drive home, which made sense, but Nicky still felt lightheaded as he stepped out from the booth.   
  
Nile asked if he needed a hand, and chuckled when Nicky rolled his eyes, “I think I can handle aiming, thanks.”   
  
He did have to walk a little slower to the backroom in order to avoid stumbling around, but still his knees buckled when he stepped towards the hallway. He sort of swayed close to the wall, and was almost grateful (if not slightly embarrassed) when he felt a firm hand grabbing his arm, “Hey, you alright - “   
  
Nicky felt confused, certain he recognized the voice, but it wasn’t until he raised his eyes up slowly that he realized who was holding him up, “Keane? What are you doing here?”   
  
He flashed him a cold smirk, and Nicky felt a shiver run up his spine, and not the good kind, “Heard you might be here tonight.”   
  
Nicky tried pulling his arm back from the man, but he only tightened his grip, though the alcohol dulled the pain his clutching fingers were causing, “Keane, I can handle walking to the bathroom, you can let me go now.”   
  
“Let me help you,” he already started walking, tugging Nicky along and he stumbled a little at the sudden turn.   
  
He still wasn’t registering _why_ Keane felt the need to go along, and firmly planted his feet on the ground, even though his knees felt wobbly, “You trying to get me alone or something?” He had meant it as a teasing remark, but when Keane stopped and looked back at him slowly, Nicky realized there was some truth in his assessment. He again tried to pull his arm back from his grip, but Keane merely stepped closer, while Nicky nervously began to move backwards till his back pressed against the cold wall behind him.   
  
When Keane stepped right in front of him, Nicky felt caged in, though he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the anxiety making him feel intimidated. He tried to keep things light, hoping he could let him down easy, but also to assure _himself_ things weren’t as bad as they seemed, “Th-Thanks Keane, but no.”   
  
His large free hand moved beside Nicky’s head, and with the firm grip on his arm, Keane’s body was essentially bracketing his own. He tried to slow down his heart rate, still hoping that maybe he was simply reading too much into it. That his mind shouting to _‘get away’_ was just a by product of an overactive reaction, “You-you can stop now.” 

But Keane’s silence felt unnerving, and Nicky raised unsteady hands against his shoulders trying to push him away in order to breathe better, “Let g-go of me.” Nicky could feel Keane moving _closer_ , his breath near his ear, as Nicky looked down unsure if the dizziness was from the alcohol, or the fear, “St-stop, let go.”   
  
“He’s not asking.”   
  
Keane finally released his tight grip on his arm, and Nicky wearily raised his head and saw _Joe_ standing there. Tall, and tense, with his eyes narrowed at Keane.

* * *

Joe was dipping the straw into the bottle of club soda, bored out of his mind, even with Booker’s company. The light strobes were drying out his eyes, the music was far too loud, and worse far too many drunk people. He really didn’t care if they were having a good time, but more than one person made advances at them with slurring words and Joe felt like he was losing patience. Every now and then he glanced back over at the booth Nicky and Nile were sitting in, and he was certain this couldn’t really be Nicky’s scene either. He seemed to lock eyes with Joe every now and then, which made him wonder if he wanted to leave here just as badly.  
  
“Looks like they’re ready to call it a night,” Booker tipped his soda towards them, and Joe turned his head to see Nile and Nicky standing.   
  
“Finally,” he couldn’t help but feel relieved, rubbing his palm against his eyelids to help with the dryness, “hey, by the way, you did amazing tonight.”   
  
He was referring to Booker’s sobriety, but he waved it off, “Thanks, though to be honest I don’t think Nicky kicked them back as well as I did back then.” He suggested Joe take another look, and sure enough he watched Nicky staggering towards a dark corner of the Club, likely heading for the bathroom. Nile had just made her way over, saying as much, but Joe didn’t like the idea of how he was looking from afar. If anything he didn’t want him tipping over the urinal. Joe decided to follow behind him and Nile took his seat to wait for them to return. He already lost sight of him when he rounded the corner, but he couldn’t have been more than thirty feet away.   
  
When he stepped out into the hallway, he almost froze at the sight of Nicky pressed against the wall, caged in by a man. No, not a man, _Keane_ . Nicky hadn’t been alone for more than two minutes, but somehow Keane had decided to make a move. Which was odd, Joe hadn’t even realized he was here. Where had he even come from? But it was Nicky’s quiet, stuttering plea of the word _‘stop’_ , and Keane’s non compliance, that made Joe rush forward without an ounce of hesitation.   
  
There was barely any room between Nicky and Keane, but Joe stepped into the space anyways, and glared at him, “He’s not asking.”   
  
He could feel Nicky’s eyes on him, but he stayed focused on Keane, who slowly released his grip on Nicky’s arm - and _dared_ to play it down, “He hit on me first.”   
  
“He’s drunk,” Joe narrowed his eyes at him, “If you can’t wait till he’s sober to make sure he’s interested, then that says more about you than him.” Then he leaned closer, almost face to face, “So, you should back off.”   
  
And yet, Keane _scoffed_ , as if somehow Joe was the one who was taking all this far too seriously, “It doesn’t mean anything to him.” Then he jeered, “He’s just a slut looking for a good time.”   
  
He could hear Nicky wince behind him, nervously shifting, but he didn’t say anything, and Joe glared at Keane, his hands curling into fists, “ _Leave. Now_ .” Keane waited a beat, before huffing and walking away quickly. Joe closed his eyes, trying to push down the defensiveness before it boiled over to anger.   
  
“I - I’m sorry,” Nicky’s quiet voice whispered behind him, though Joe was quick to point out he had _‘nothing to apologize for’_ . But when he turned around, he saw Nicky’s flushed cheeks, and glassy eyes staring back up at him, almost timid, “Wh-What Keane said didn’t bother you?”   
  
“It made me want to hit him - “   
  
“No,” Nicky chewed on his lip, “I didn’t mean like that.”   
  
Joe’s eyes felt heavy, “I know what you meant.”   
  
“I - I don’t know why he even hit on me,” Nicky glanced down, and Joe felt some of the tension draining from him. When Keane had seen Nicky like this, he saw it as some sort of perverted opportunity, but all Joe wanted to do was get him home so he could sleep this off, “I don’t want Keane - “ Nicky bit his lip, then looked up with far more sincerity than Joe would have thought he was capable of at the moment, “I want _you_ .”   
  
_Fuck._

_And - he’s drunk . . ._ Joe sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to remember that _key_ fact before choosing his next words carefully.   
  
Somehow Joe’s silence seemed to have been misread as compliance. Nicky kept his upper body against the wall, while moving his lower half forward little. His pelvis was now dangerously close to Joe’s groin, and he could feel Nicky’s knees brushing against his legs. It was a downright flirty, sensual, pose, and Joe was just about to take a large step back. Yet he stilled as Nicky folded his hands behind his back, and smirked up at him with hooded eyes, “You’re the first guy I’ve liked in a while, and you’re _so hot_ .”   
  
Joe almost wanted to roll his eyes at his slurred words, because they were a firm reminder of how Nicky really didn’t know _what_ he was saying, “Nicky - “   
  
He must have heard the dismissal coming, and Nicky made one last ditch effort by pulling his right arm out from behind his back, and resting his hand on Joe’s bare forearm. It had been the first time he had felt Nicky’s skin on his since that first day, and even just that slight touch left a tingling sensation, “I know we could have a fantastic night together.” 

“It would be for more than one night with me,” Nicky’s eyes widened slightly at his words, like he wasn’t sure how to take that. Joe wondered if he’d even remember any of this the next day, but he didn’t mind making his own intention clear. He moved a little closer, so close he could taste the alcohol on his breath between them, “if you really want to do those things - then you can let me know tomorrow, _when you're sober_ .”   
  
“I - “ Nicky looked confused, then almost miffed, before his body started to go slack, “I think I’m going to be sick.”   
  
He barely had a chance to reach out for him, before Nicky leaned into his arms, clutching them to stay upright. He groaned a little, and Joe touched the bluetooth on his ear to connect with Booker to tell him to meet him out front. Luckily, Nicky didn’t lose consciousness and at least _sort of_ managed to walk out with Joe’s help, but they had barely made it outside into the night air when Nicky flung forward and threw up.   
  
Joe did his best to aim him close to the building so no one stepped in it, and rubbed Nicky’s heaving back, hoping he got the worst of it out before they climbed into the car. Of course, by the time Booker and Nile stepped out, she rushed right over to him and tried to help, but he had already stopped and merely mumbled out apologies to everyone. Booker volunteered to bring the car around, while Nile helped hoist Nicky into an upright position.   
  
He leaned his head against her shoulder, looking away from Joe, and he hoped Nicky didn’t feel too embarrassed. Joe had had plenty of drunk nights in his teens, he understood, and certainly didn’t judge him. In fact, most of his thoughts were racing through Nicky’s offer inside the club and if he had actually _meant_ what he had said. Sure, there had been flirtatious, even teasing, moments sometimes, but that was _far_ different than suggesting they spend a night together. 

But Joe meant what _he_ had said. He knew that he would not be able to only have Nicky once.   
  
“Booker’s here,” Nile quietly pointed out, and Joe looked over at Nicky who was hanging onto her as best as he could. But as strong as she was, she wouldn’t really be able to help him into the car without tumbling over herself.   
  
Joe moved closer, and reached for him, “Here, let me.”   
  
She nodded, moving Nicky’s arm off of her shoulder, “Nicky, hold onto Joe.”   
  
He mumbled some sort of reply, but no one could make it out, and Joe merely stood there with Nicky leaning against his arm. Booker parked the car at the curb, and Nile held the back door open, before climbing in first. She was ready to help Nicky in next, and he sort of stumbled into the backseat with a groan. Nile pulled his upper body up a little to help prop him up, then Joe climbed in beside him (just in case he started throwing up again). But before Booker even pulled into the street, Nicky had somehow managed to settle against his shoulder.   
  
Joe desperately tried not to notice the smell of Nicky’s shampoo, and even rolled the window down to help with his skin feeling hot. Nicky seemed completely content, even sleepy as his head gently bobbed during the car ride against Joe’s firm shoulder. Gratefully Booker didn’t make any teasing comments, chatting with Nile all the way home instead.

Once they were back at the house, Booker pulled as close to the front entrance as he could, and got the door for Joe. It took all three of them to help him out of the car, but Nicky managed a halfway decent effort to his room. Nile offered to stay overnight and keep an eye out for Nicky, in case he threw up again in his sleep, which was a relief to Joe. He had had the same concern, but didn’t know how he would have managed staying in his room all night.   
  
Nicky grumbled when Nile suggested a quick shower for him, but didn’t protest. Blissfully, she merely asked Booker and Joe to hold him up while she stripped him down his briefs, and Joe used the last bit of his willpower not to look down. The water did seem to help, Nicky was at least only _sort of_ teeter tottering inside the walk in shower. But he had at least managed to stand on his own, though both Booker and Joe stayed nearby just in case.   
  
Unfortunately, when Nile returned with his pajamas, he had just stepped out . . . before lunging for the toilet, barely making it before throwing up _again_ . Booker winced and made some sort of joke about being glad _‘those days’_ were behind him, while Joe shot him a glare, more worried about how Nicky was going to feel tomorrow morning.

Nile bent down beside Nicky, gently patting his head, “Let’s get you in some pajamas, and - well, some mouthwash, and then bed, yeah?”  
  
Nicky winced, but nodded, “ _Si._ ”   
  
Booker and Joe helped him stand upright again, and Nile put an oversized t-shirt over Nicky’s head that reached his thighs. Then, to Joe’s surprise, she told Nicky to pull down his wet briefs while he hurriedly looked away. Nile handed Nicky a dry pair, and he stepped into them with her help, while Joe tried desperately _not_ to think about his dick being out within two feet of his hand . . .   
  
“Alright, off to bed,” Nile chirped _way_ too happily for how the men in the room were feeling, but he still shuffled behind her, while Booker and Joe were ready to catch him if need be. 

Nile climbed into the large bed first, and Joe held the blanket for Nicky to do the same. But just after he had, Nicky suddenly reached his arms up to Joe. His warm hands now rested on his tense shoulders, as he began to pull him down towards him, “ _. . . Joe_ .”   
  
_Shit_ , Joe’s eyes widened, and he braced his hands on either side of Nicky’s face, arms locked to hopefully prevent any further descent. Nicky’s eyes were closed, his hair still damp, and his flushed cheeks made Joe wonder if this is what he'd look like intimately . . . - luckily, Nile rescued him from Nicky’s surprisingly firm clutches, tugging at his arms, “Sorry, buddy, just me tonight.”   
  
“ _Not fair_ ,” Nicky whined, but turned towards her anyways, his forehead resting against her shoulder, and seemingly already falling asleep. She looked up at Joe with a smile and mouthed a quiet _‘thank you’_ , though he really felt like he should be thanking her. He stood upright again, and told her to call him if she needed anymore help, before she winked at him and wished him _‘sweet dreams’_ .   
  
As if he was going to actually manage to sleep after all _that_ .   
  
Thankfully, Booker waited till they had stepped into the hallway, before he suggested Joe take some _‘private time’_ before settling in for the night. Joe gave him a look, before suggesting _he_ should go to bed. But Booker raised his hands, “I’m the awake night shift remember? But I do think with Nile in there, I’ll take a shower myself - pretty sure I have some vomit on my pants.” 

They both walked down into the main living room, and through the staff doors, but neither was in much a rush. Joe shared what he had witnessed with Keane (though he left out the immediate exchange with Nicky after), and they both decided they’d need to update Derek on what happened the next day. But just how detailed their report would be, depended on how much Nicky remembered in the morning.

  
 _Meanwhile . . ._   
  


Realizing no one was watching over his room, a man snuck into Nicky’s space and quietly sat down in the vanity chair near the mirror. The room was dark, and he was certain he couldn’t be seen. It was hard to make out Nicky, but it didn’t matter, just knowing he was lying there - even with the unplanned stay of Nile beside him - didn’t deter him. Using the shirt he had stolen earlier he held it close to his cock as he slowly stroked himself to orgasm. It didn’t take long, and he came on Nicky’s shirt, hoping that soon it would be Nicky’s body he could use for his pleasure next time . . .   
  
After he zipped up his pants, he crumpled the shirt in his hand and stepped closer to the bed. The moonlight from the window cascaded over Nile’s sleeping form, and he glared down at her. He couldn’t wait till she was gone.

But he couldn’t do anything about it tonight. _Soon, but not just yet._   
So he quietly stepped out of the room instead. 

Nile stirred when she heard the door lock, but Nicky reached out for her, and after snuggling close, she easily returned to sleep.   
  


* * *

  
  


**NOTES:** bum bum bummmmmmmmm . . . alright, everyone alive?? How y'all doing?? I know we covered _a lot_ of different emotions in this one, so let's check in on each other in the comments because this chapter was wild (though boy, it gets crazier reallll soon). And holy heck, that ending right? Still gives me the creeps @_@ - also eeeeekkkk, get ready for an awkward morning after in the next one, as we wrap up the third week T~T I can't tell you too much, but let me say, things will be getting more intense soon . . . and, um, I had to casually up the chapter count from 15 to 17 _sorryyyyyy_.


	6. Third Week - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after doesn't go as planned for either Joe, or Nicky.  
> And Keane gets (sort of) dealt with . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: mild anxiety attack and some vague references to Nicky's grief/past and the trauma around it

* * *

_“The things left unsaid to people we care about, and the void those unspoken words leave,_

_often have more impact than what is said.” - Tyler Knight_

* * *

_June 21st - Saturday_

_Di Genova Property_

_Nicky’s Bedroom_

_Midmorning . . ._

Nicky woke up with a groan, his head feeling particularly heavy, and his eyes dry and itchy.  
  
He _sort_ of remembered walking to the bathroom at the club last night, and there was something about Keane being there. But the rest felt like a blur, only bits and pieces filtering through his mind as he rubbed his eye lids with the palms of his hands. He could picture Nile helping him in the car, recalled the wind from an open car window - and . . .   
  
_Cazzo._ _  
_ _  
_ A shower. Throwing up. Joe helping him to bed.   
And - _shit._ Nile had to peel his hands _off of Joe_ . 

Nicky sunk further into the comforter, downright mortified, and groaned _again_.

But when he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand beside him, he slowly peeled the blanket back and peeked over at it. He had missed some sort of alarm he had set and the phone kept reminding him of it, though until then he had managed to sleep right through it. He reached for it turn it off, when he saw a missed message from Nile from about an hour before:  
  
 _Sorry hun -_

_Had to duck out early._

_Will be back tomorrow for the movie!_

_Remember, lots of fluids today ~_   
  
Nicky rolled onto his back, almost afraid to ask, but desperately needing to know, too:   
  
_Morning -_ _  
_ _I’m not sure I want to know . . ._

 _But what happened last night?_   
  
It only took Nile a minute to light up his screen with a video chat request and he stared at the reflection of his hungover face for a moment before tapping the accept button. With far too much cheeriness than his nerves could really handle at the moment, she greeted him with a beaming smile, and an animated voice, “Well, _hello_ sunshine!”   
  
Nicky’s shoulders practically raised to his ears, “Nile, _please_ .”   
  
Nile covered her mouth for a moment, trying to stifle her giggle, “Sorry -” she managed to lower her voice to a softer tone, before starting over, “How are you feeling?”   
  
“Mortified,” Nicky answered honestly, “And I’m not even sure I am remembering everything.” His eyes shifted down to his lap, before taking a breath and looking back at her, “Did I - did something happen with Joe last night?”   
  
Nile tilted her head, giving him a coy smirk, “Are you hoping something did?”   
  
“No riddles, please,” Nicky rolled onto his side, leaning the phone against the pillow beside him, “I just need to know if I should hide in this bedroom all day, or can I walk out there?”   
  
Nile rolled her eyes, and waved her hand dismissively, “You were flirty, but no worries, Joe was professional _as always_ .” Then she wiggled her eyebrows with a smile, “The only person you slept with was me.”   
  
In a way he was relieved, because if something _had_ happened with Joe, he would have liked to remember it . . . but in another way, he was a little disappointed. Nile said he was _‘flirty’_ though, and after asking her to confirm just _how_ flirty he got, she filled in the blanks for him. 

After getting the details about needing help to get from the club, to the car, to a shower (though he at least managed to keep his briefs on) _and_ to his bed by _all three_ of them, Nicky felt his face turning a whole shade of pink.   
  
Fuck, he hadn’t been that drunk in a _while._

But just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Nile explained his memory of trying to pull Joe down on top of him, had happened in front of her _and_ Booker. He practically recoiled further away from the phone, and pressed his face into the mattress. _Great._

He could sort of hear her trying to assure him that it wasn’t _‘that bad_ , and really he knew he’d have to face Joe at some point, but he needed to wake up more first. He promised to text Nile later, and she blew him a kiss over the screen before ending the call.   
  
Nicky stretched in the bed, trying to loosen the stiff legs and arms, before he felt Felicia’s head bonk against his cheek. She was probably hungry, but didn’t protest when he pulled her close to his chest first to snuggle her. He almost absentmindedly ran his fingertips along the fur and looked over at the sun filtering through the window, “What am I going to do about that man, Felicia?”   
  
She purred loudly, pressing into his touch, and once again he wished he could understand her thoughts. 

* * *

Nicky had spent the last thirty minutes working up the courage to leave his room. He put on a plain shirt, his favorite pajama bottoms, and managed to brush down the wisps of hair that had curled out to the side. He splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth, and sighed at his reflection. He didn’t look as bad as he did on Monday but not much better either.   
  
But after practicing in front of the mirror just what he would say to Joe . . . and then starting over again with different conversation points depending on his potential replies, he decided he was as ready as he could be.

He held the door handle for one moment, taking one last deep breath and tried to look more confident than he felt.

Just before he reached the end of the hallway, Nicky heard the blender in the kitchen being turned on. Luckily, the loudness of the whirring machinery didn’t make him wince, so maybe his hangover wasn’t as bad as he had expected. With it being Saturday, Quynh and Lykon were the ones scheduled, but just as he came around the corner to step down into the living area, he was pleasantly surprised to find Joe standing there.  
  
He was holding the top of the blender with one hand, and an empty glass in the other. He was wearing a more relaxed outfit, his usual slim cut cargo pants replaced with more comfortable dark colored jeans. And a thin, cotton, navy colored shirt stretched across his back _perfectly_. Every now and then, the muscles along his shoulders shifted as he checked the consistency of the mixture he was making. 

Nicky was glad he didn't turn it off when he dipped his head closer, or else he might have heard the audible gulp he made when Joe’s muscles flexed. 

Joe hadn’t seemed to have heard him approach, not until he was halfway in the kitchen. But when he had, he paused the blender, and gave him a quick, _‘morning’_ while Nicky took a seat at the island. 

He didn’t say anything else though, merely began to pour out the contents into the glass in silence, and Nicky wondered if he should try to speak first. But he wasn’t exactly sure where to start, or how much time they’d have before Quynh and Lykon walked in. In the end, by the time he decided to say anything, Joe turned around with the glass and suggested it would _‘help with the hangover.’_ _  
_   
He placed it in the space between them, and Nicky reached for it, mumbling a quiet, _‘thanks’_ before bringing it closer to himself. It looked like some sort of green concoction, and smelled horrible. He raised a curious eyebrow in his direction, but Joe gave him a casual grin, somehow helping break the tension a little - before turning around to start cleaning the blender in the sink. Nicky wasn’t so sure about the drink, but not wanting to appear rude, raised it to his lips and took a sip. He made a face at the taste, but managed two more before placing it down between his hands.   
  
“What do you remember from last night?”   
  
Nicky slowly looked up, but Joe was still rinsing out the blender, his firm back to him and his voice too monotone to discern his mood. He wasn’t sure if he should mention the whole _trying-to-pull-him-into-his-bed_ thing until Joe was facing him again. 

So he figured he’d start with something else, “Um, I remember throwing up last night.”  
  
Joe paused for a moment, a light chuckle shaking his shoulders, “Twice.” 

_Great_ , Nicky felt like he could cower behind the island. But maybe it would be good to ask Joe what _he_ saw last night, how things appeared on his end, before steering the conversation to the flirtation. He rubbed the nails of his thumbs along the rim of the glass, staring down at the bubbles of the smoothie, “Anything else?”

Joe turned off the water, his voice low, “Keane was there last night.” He grabbed the towel nearby, and wiped his hands, “And I didn’t like how he was acting with you.”  
  
Nicky looked up, just in time to meet Joe’s eyes as he turned around, “You - didn’t like, _step in_ , did you?” All he could imagine was Joe giving Keane the same treatment he had to Tom two weeks before, and the last thing he needed was Joe ready to beat up everyone and anyone over his ‘honor’ or ‘safety’ or whatever. Nicky wanted to assure him that as much as he could appreciate his dedication to his job, that aspect was unnecessary. 

His grip on the towel tightened a little, but his expression was one of confusion, “You looked uncomfortable and I - “ When Nicky didn’t follow his assessment, Joe leaned against the edge of the counter, and glanced down, “It didn’t look right.”

 _Wait_ , Nicky mulled over Joe’s words. Watching the way his fingers curled around that towel, and how his brow furrowed like he was frustrated. For one brief moment he considered the possibility that maybe Joe was _jealous?_ _Well if that’s the issue_ \- Nicky was all too happy to explain that Keane was not his competition. No one was. 

He straightened on the stool, trying to be sympathetic to both men, “Keane’s a little weird, I know, but he’s harmless -” Joe’s eyes widened and he stopped fumbling with the towel between his hands, “I don’t really recall what he was doing, but I - wouldn’t want to be like _mean_ , I can let him down gently, you know?”   
  
Joe didn’t have to worry about getting defensive over Keane, or jealous, or whatever happened the night before . . . _‘besides, I’d much rather talk about us please’._ He was just about to say as much, eager to see how Joe felt about things. How he felt about _him_. 

But Joe turned around in frustration instead.

* * *

“Keane’s a little weird, I know, but he’s harmless -” 

Joe had hoped Nicky would have remembered.

Had hoped that he hadn’t said those things because he was drunk, but because he wanted . . . well, _him_ . But the fact that he didn’t seem to recall anything that Keane did only implied he had no recollection of his offer either. Sure, Nicky didn’t realize exactly what had happened, but he called him a _‘little weird’_ which implied this wasn’t the first time Keane had overstepped with him. _‘How often had this happened before?’_

“I don’t really recall what he was doing, but I - wouldn’t want to be like _mean_ , I can let him down gently, you know?” 

Was he really going to defend this guy? Was there a part of Nicky that didn’t want to ‘appear mean’? Even to a guy like Keane who was trying to take advantage of him?   
  
Joe turned around, dropping the towel on the counter, and shifted the palms of his hands against the cool stone. Did he actually expect him not to intervene next time when Nicky’s _‘gentle let down’_ didn’t work (again)? Did he really not realize how a guy like Keane would take advantage of his kindness like that? _Not just advantage . . ._ Nicky was saying _‘stop’_ and Keane wasn’t listening. The thought of what could have happened had he not stepped in, made a fresh swell of anger rise within Joe.

If Nicky wasn’t going to tell the guy off he _would_ . And if he thought Joe was being overprotective then so be it.   
  
He almost desperately needed Nicky to understand how he would not allow this to happen again. Not under his watch, not so long he was around. But first he wanted to address how easily Nicky was dismissing Keane’s behavior (both past, and recent). He was genuinely concerned, if Nicky couldn’t see the pressing issue, and sighed, “You’re naive.”

Nicky let out a faint gasp behind him, and spoke up so, _so_ quietly, “You - you think I’m dumb?”

 _What?_ Joe pressed his eyes closed, trying to follow how Nicky heard _that_ from his words. He hadn’t thought he said it harshly, but maybe his frustration over Keane had bled into the tone of his voice. He tried again, “Not dumb - “ but his shoulders felt tense, and his fingers pressed against the stone harder, “You think because you would never hurt anyone, that no one would ever hurt you.” _‘I’m worried for you, I’m scared for what could happen to you by trying to be too nice to the wrong person’_ . Yet when he turned around, trying to get his point across, he didn’t say either of those things. Merely double downed on his original statement, “And _that’s_ naive.”

But by the time his gaze had fixed on Nicky, he was stunned to realize he had somehow offended him. No, worse than that: he was looking down, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes watering. He hadn’t offended Nicky, he had _hurt_ him and Joe slumped against the counter trying to understand how this conversation went this badly so quickly. 

His singular objective that morning had been to help Nicky feel better, and talk over things. He had even asked Quynh if she would mind waiting till they had a chat before starting her shift. He made him a hangover smoothie, and planned on asking him about how much he had remembered the night before. About the offer he had made, and if he still wanted that the next day. And yes, he wanted to talk about Keane, and discuss him not being able to stay at the house anymore. Because he wanted to keep Nicky safe. Because he cared about him.   
  
Instead, Joe watched in stunned silence as Nicky pushed the glass away from him, and slid off of the stool.   
  
_Wait -_ Joe thought, but he was scared to say anything else. Scared he’d make this even worse somehow. He just needed a moment to find a way to explain.

But Nicky was already stepping into the hallway, though he paused before rounding the corner for his room. He did _sort_ of look back at Joe from over his shoulder, but kept his head down, refusing to meet his eyes, “I - I’m not naive.” His hand slowly slid down from the wall he had leaned it against, and continued seemingly more to himself than to Joe, as he stared ahead of him, “Or dumb. I choose to be kind.” 

_Wait, please -_ Joe wanted to follow him when he walked away - _you are kind. So kind._

But regret kept his legs locked in place, trying not to get emotional himself, _I am sorry I made you think, even for a moment, that you weren’t._

But Nicky was gone, and Joe was left alone in the kitchen, the words he spoke of _‘choosing to be kind’_ slamming into him. Nicky wasn’t kind because of the things he suffered, he was who he was _despite_ of them. He had known grief far too early in life - likely before he could even wrap his mind around the concept of death - he was faced with it head on. And Joe’s eyes watered because he wanted to explain how well he understood that himself, but he pushed that grief down. 

Pushed it down deep, so it could fester, and help propel him from his frozen stance.

He needed to shift focus. He’d tackle an immediate need first, do _something_ right, and then try to explain to Nicky later.

He stepped away from the island.

And went searching for Keane.

* * *

Joe didn’t tell anyone what he was doing. He knew Booker, or Andy would try to do it for him - or get Derek to do it, since Keane was tied to Merrick. He definitely didn’t want to mess up a DEA investigation, could even _sort_ of reasonably process that he was likely too close to Nicky to handle this objectively. But it didn’t slow him down, only growing more determined the longer it took to locate Keane.   
  
He knew that fucker was hiding from him because it took him thirty minutes of roaming the staff wing before he finally found him near the staff pool smoking a cigarette. Joe knew he needed to choose his words carefully, be mindful of all the moving parts behind the scenes as he stepped outside. But it was hard to even be in his presence. He slid the glass door closed behind him, hoping no one would be able to hear their conversation.   
  
Keane looked back, rolled his eyes, and had the audacity to turn back around as if somehow Joe’s mere presence was a waste of his time, “Come to tell me off?”   
  
“Something like that,” Joe admitted easily, “And to let you know you need to find another place to stay.”   
  
_That_ got his attention, and he pulled the cigarette away from his lips, “For what?”   
  
“Don’t do that,” Joe could feel the defensiveness pulse through his veins, irritation pumping from his chest, and down to his fists, “Don’t act like you don’t know why.” His eyes narrowed at him, “He was drunk, and telling you to ‘stop’.” 

“I already told you, he hit on me first,” Keane flicked the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugged his shoulders, “Not my fault if you misinterpreted things.”

He was trying to keep his emotions at bay, but the frustration bubbled up at Keane’s words, giving Joe an edge to his voice, “You’re a _sick fuck_ if you honestly think I’m going to allow you to stay here.”   
  
But Keane acted downright unbothered, simply raising his cigarette to his mouth, his body still turned away from Joe. And for one brief moment, when Joe watched him take a long drag of it, he imagined grabbing him by the back of his throat, and smashing his head into the stone table in front of him. He could feel the adrenaline vibrating under his taut skin, the flex of his fingers pressing into his palms, face fixed on the back of Keane’s head. He could do it quickly, he reasoned, before anyone would even notice. He’d at least manage to break Keane’s nose, maybe a cheekbone. 

But then what? There was still the double agent to worry about, the need to fix things with Nicky - he could _not_ go to jail tonight. Joe forced his face to relax, if anything, so Keane wouldn’t suspect he had managed to crawl under his skin. He needed to present indifference, otherwise he was only feeding into Keane’s hands. The man was a grabby perv who could not be reasoned with, but maybe he’d cower under a threat. He breathed through his nose, and unclenched his jaw, “Find somewhere else to spend your nights, or I’ll tell Lucio what happened.”   
  
Keane huffed, and let the cigarette drop near his boots, rubbing it out underneath the treads, “I’ve known that man for almost a decade, who do you think he’ll believe?”   
  
Joe was not deterred, and took two large strides towards him. Keane turned to face him, and Joe tilted his chin up a bit, fighting against the urge to head butt him to the ground, “Should we go find out?” 

Keane tipped his head, voice abrasive to Joe’s ears, “Who do you think are? You’re just a bodyguard - “  
  
Joe’s brow furrowed, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, “And what exactly is your title again, dumbass?”

He knew _something_ shifted when Keane looked slightly less confrontational. He placed his hands on his hips, and tried a different angle, “Merrick wants me here till he arrives.”   
  
“During the day,” Joe immediately pointed out, “No need to sleep here, unless you’re somehow convincing the man you’re working nights, too.”   
  
Keane stared at him for a moment, likely trying to discern if he could somehow counter this, or argue his way out of it. And Joe caught the moment something flashed in front of his face, a switch that was flipped, and Keane backed away _with a grin_ , “ _Fine_.” 

It made every single, internal, warning bell Joe had, go off. 

His tone seemed far too calm, and Joe knew this wasn’t the last of it. He had hoped to merely ignore Keane, ensure he wasn’t around at nights, and that would be the end of it. But now he knew he needed to at least reach out to Derek about this. He understood that Lucio’s hands were likely tied, not wanting to make Merrick suspicious by not allowing Keane to roam around. Yet his behavior made Joe think Derek should know about this after all, and maybe he’d be able to figure out what to say to Lucio.

Keane walked around him, his shoulder bumping against Joe as some sort of passive aggressive challenge, but Joe closed his eyes and breathed through the moment. So long he could get this man away from Nicky when he wasn’t around, Joe convinced himself he did at least _one_ thing right today. 

Now he just needed to figure out a way to tell Nicky it was handled, that he didn’t have to worry about Keane.

And that Joe didn’t think Nicky was dumb - _just too kind for your own good._ _  
_   
Though that didn’t really sound any better. 

Joe turned around, and headed towards Lucio’s office, certain Derek would be nearby.

If he couldn’t tell Nicky the truth, at least he could tell his Dad.

* * *

_Two hours later . . ._

Quynh had knocked on Nicky’s door about thirty minutes after he had walked away from Joe. She didn’t really wait for his response, simply said she was reporting for her shift, and that if he needed anything she’d be in the living room.   
  
Somehow it hurt worse to know that Joe hadn’t come to check on him. 

Reasonably he knew _he_ had walked away from _him_ . Joe was likely just trying to give him the space he implied he needed when he left the room. But even snuggling against Felicia in his bed hadn’t helped. The pain of his words had felt lodged in his throat, and he was afraid to reply to Quynh, worried she’d be able to hear the emotions in his voice.   
  
When he heard her walk away, he buried his face closer to Felicia, his eyes wet, and his throat clamping tight. 

There was some truth to Joe’s words. It was hard for Nicky to imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. At least not on purpose. And maybe that was naive on his end to believe. Joe’s defensiveness around Keane was warranted. That man had made Nicky uncomfortable before. He could tell he was at least vaguely interested in him, even when he was younger. But couldn’t he decide how to say _‘no’_? Surely even drunk he could tell Keane to back off - Joe didn’t need to always assume he was so helpless, right? 

Nicky’s shaky hands stroked Felicia’s fur, and she flapped her tail against his wrist. The sensory distraction helped a little, and he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. He knew he should work on processing some of this. But his mind couldn’t settle on which to work through first - the grief around his mom's anniversary next week, the uncomfortability with Keane, or the worry about Joe - and he sighed around a stuttering breath.  
  
The idea of dealing with even one of those things felt exhausting, much less three, and Nicky closed his eyes instead. He needed his brain to shut off for a moment, just a few minutes to not get overwhelmed. It wasn’t like the problems weren’t still going to be there when he woke up. 

* * *

When he woke up, Nicky realized it was close to lunch.

He knew he would need to head to the kitchen, make himself something, and though he felt guilty for thinking it - he almost hoped Quynh _wasn’t_ there. He could barely think straight, and the thought of trying to hold a conversation and explain anything right now felt nerve wracking. He had approached the kitchen slowly, but when he stepped down into the living area, found none other than his Dad sitting at the counter instead, staring into a cup of coffee.   
  
When he noticed Nicky standing there, he did not look exactly _happy_ to see him, more like _hesitant_. It did absolutely nothing for his already churning stomach. 

He didn’t know why he was sitting there now, they had barely seen each other in the last three weeks. A few times in the hallways, quick greetings and light conversations, before Lucio pulled away. They had breakfast together exactly twice on the weekends, but it was mostly in silence.

The awkwardness felt too too painful, so he retreated into what was familiar, the silent block wrapping around his mind again. He didn’t know why his Dad was there now, but it did imply he wanted to talk about something. And the impending conversation only left Nicky feeling lightheaded. Even if all he could muster was listening, he needed some nourishment, and headed towards the cabinet to grab a bowl for cereal.  
  
“Nicolò,” his Dad broke through the silence, and Nicky knew that tone: _concern_ . Maybe he heard how drunk he got last night? He didn’t turn around though, unsure if he could handle seeing the disappointed look he was surely sporting, “I just - wanted to let you know that Keane might still be around during the day, but he won’t be using the guest room anymore.”   
  
Nicky had already started pouring the cereal, but he paused at his statement, and slowly put the box on the counter, “Wh-why?”   
  
It took his Dad a moment to respond, and Nicky braced himself for the likely confirmation of his worry, “Joe told me what happened last night.”   
  
_About what? Was what Keane did really that bad?_ Why did Joe go to his Dad? He wished Joe would have just let it go like he was trying to do. Nicky had enough things to worry about and process lately, that really Keane being 'skeevy' was easily dismissable in comparison.   
  
He opened the fridge, and grabbed the milk to pour some into the bowl, hoping his voice didn’t sound strained, “It - I tried to tell him that I could handle Keane - “ _‘It doesn’t have to interfere with your work.’_

“You shouldn’t have to Nicolò,” he quickly pointed out, surprising even Nicky in the certainty of his statement. He slowly gazed back towards him, holding onto the bowl with his right hand to keep him grounded. He could feel the coldness of the milk in the bowl seeping against the porcelain, and cooling his hand. It helped remind him not to float away as he watched his father shift nervously in his chair, “Just - let Joe do his job, okay?”  
  
Nicky winced at the words, and his chest felt tight as the rush of possibilities slammed into him.

Why _was_ his Dad here, instead of Joe? What did he mean about letting him ‘do his job’? With Keane? _Or_ \- had Nicky somehow offended Joe last night? Had Joe gone to his Dad, asking him to remind Nicky to ‘let him do his job’, and not be flirted with?   
  
Was that what Joe had really meant with his naive comment?

That Nicky was naive for even trying to make a move last night?   
  
Nicky’s fingers clutched the bowl tighter. He wanted to talk to Joe, apologize . . . he hadn’t meant to offend him. Hadn’t - _fuck_ , was he going to quit? Was he going to leave?   
  
He could hear his Dad’s voice calling his name, but it sounded muffled against the blood rushing around his ears. His heart felt like it was pressing against his sternum, trying to pump against the adrenaline his brain was demanding he respond to. Wave after wave in a steady rhythm that made him feel weak at the knees. 

He couldn’t believe he messed things up _this_ badly with _one_ evening. 

_Crash._   
  
He felt the milk spill along his pajama pants, the soggy cereal sticking to parts of his socks. But it was the sound of the bowl breaking against the floor that helped register where he was: still trapped in this horrible moment. _‘I keep messing up’_. He stared down at the broken shards, the evidence laid there in front of him. He couldn’t even make himself a bowl of cereal. 

_‘I keep messing up’_ his mind echoed back at him again.   
  
His legs started to buckle, and he could feel himself sliding down along the cabinet behind him. He tried to balance on the balls of his feet, but it was a weak effort at best, and he ended up sitting on the cold, polished, concrete floors.   
  
He needed to clean this up. Needed to fix this. Needed to find Joe. Needed to explain. 

But his fingers felt shaky, visual evidence of just how bad he was doing. 

_‘I keep messing up’_ . That stupid sentence kept running on a loop in his mind. And it was ridiculous. That the broken bowl was the thing that _broke him_ in this moment. Not the uncomfortability around Keane, not the grief around his mom, not the worry around Joe. A stupid, fucking, bowl that taunted him now as he struggled to even reach for the shards.   
  
“You aren’t messing anything up.”   
  
_Shit_ , he hadn’t realized he had said it out loud. Didn’t matter though, Nicky clamped his mouth closed, so tightly his lips hurt. He saw his father’s hands reach for the remnants of the bowl, and Nicky closed his eyes as well.   
  
“I got this, it’s alright.”   
  
_‘It’s not alright, it’s not okay,’_ but where could he even begin to explain? He opened his eyes wearily, so filled with tears that it blurred his vision, but they widened in shock when he watched his father’s hand roam close to his on the floor, “Nicolò - “   
  
He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t. It felt hard to breathe, felt hard to move, and he retreated to the familiarity of the years he spent not talking to his father. Towards the end, when his mother had lost her voice, he had done so much talking for her, that when she died he couldn’t anymore. His Dad was equally lost in his grief, burying himself in his work afterwards and hoping the doctors, therapists, and tutors could offer Nicky the support he was unable to give him. They couldn’t though. 

He wanted his mom, he needed his Dad. 

And they didn’t talk for two years.   
  
But now his father was reaching for his hand. Warm skin pulling him out of the past, and rushing him back to the present - before he squeezed his hand twice . . . just like Nile did when he got overwhelmed like this. Their silent signal that said, _‘time to go? Do you need to step away?’_   
  
He never realized his Dad had learned their nonverbal language.   
  
The kindest thing his father ever did after his mom died, was to allow Nile to visit him every day after school. It was always under the guise of simply being watched by her Dad, till her Mom could retrieve her for dinner, but they both eventually understood that Nile’s patience with Nicky’s silence was really the reason it continued. She would tell him all about her day then pause, waiting to see if he had something to add, before she continued speaking. Or she’d find things they could do side by side: toys, coloring books, reading, and the like. Eventually she turned even the silence into a game, claiming they could make up their own language with taps, and pokes. He could still recall how high pitched her voice got the first time he squeezed her hand back. 

But the fact that his _Dad_ knew about it . . . 

It raised a whole other set of questions he couldn’t really dive into in the moment. He kept his gaze down, but managed to squeeze his hand back twice: _‘yes, I do’_ .   
  
“You go lie down,” his father tapped his hand once before pulling it back, his words almost casual for what had just happened, “and I’ll have Mia bring you a proper lunch.”   
  
Nicky slowly raised his eyes towards him, but his father was looking down, already gathering the broken pieces into his hands carefully. He moved slowly into a standing position, lightheaded but already feeling his heart finding a more stable beat. He wanted to say _something_ , but he didn’t have the words at the moment.   
  
Maybe he would later.

But before he walked away completely, Lucio informed, “I'll send for Quynh to finish her shift. If you need anything, let her know.”  
  
Nicky could hear his father dump the shards into the trash can behind him, and he knew he should at least say _‘thank you’_ , but his father continued first, “I know I'm busy lately -” the lid of the trash can closed with a thud, his voice now sounding softer than it had before, “but I'm glad they’re here to make sure you have a good summer."

It made Nicky tense, and he contemplated looking back. 

But when he finally found the courage to do it, his Dad was gone.  
  
He shuffled towards his room, feeling downright exhausted, but did allow Mia inside when she brought him a tray of food. She naturally fussed over him, chastising him for letting himself get _‘dehydrated’_ (which he likely was, too), but that was not the real issue. The food had helped, but what really settled the worry was when he talked to Quynh a little later and asked if Joe was still staying around through the weekend. She seemed slightly confused as to why that was even a question, but at least didn’t dismiss his concern. She simply smiled and asked if he wanted her to go _‘get him’_ , but Nicky shook his head.   
  
They did _need_ to talk, but he wasn’t really sure where to start. 

* * *

_Late evening . . ._   
  


Joe was heading to the main living room, more than ready to see Nicky and talk things out. He had grabbed his jacket, draped it over his arm, and planned on asking if they could take a walk around the edge of the property. He had mulled over how to fix this, try to explain what he had meant earlier, and assure him that the last thing he considered Nicky was _‘dumb’_ .   
  
Of course he had hoped to discuss things with him hours earlier, but things got sidetracked by the time he had shared with Derek what had happened the night before. He also agreed it would be inappropriate for Keane to remain on the property in the evenings, even with Nicky’s security detail, and suggested they talk to Lucio together.   
  
Understandably, Lucio was upset by the news, but it was when he looked between them and asked if there was _‘anything else’_ , that Joe glanced over at Derek . . . silently urging him to tell Nicky’s father about the car. The look did not go unnoticed by him, and he narrowed his eyes at Derek, silently demanding the truth.   
  
Joe watched the moment he decided to relent, Derek’s shoulders slumping as he rushed through the events from three weeks earlier. Lucio’s fingers clenched around the papers he had been shuffling through, but surprisingly seemed far more calm than Joe would have been by the news. When he was finished, Lucio carefully stacked the pile of papers on the desk, and rose from his chair. He thanked Joe for essentially saving Nicky that day, and for coming to him about Keane, and then said he was going to go talk to Nicky.   
  
Derek tried asking him about what, wanting to ensure they were still on the same page about how much information Nicky would have in regards to the investigation. But Lucio only paused long enough to give him a cold stare. The only hint of anger Joe had seen from the man, was now directed at Derek as he fumed, _‘You should have told me about all this sooner.’_   
  
Derek didn’t respond, seemingly stunned, while Joe looked down, unsure if he should follow Lucio to check on Nicky. But his father made the decision for him when he opened the door to the hallway and glared at Derek, _‘I’m going to assure my son that he has nothing to worry about, seeing as Joe is actually able to do his fucking job.’_   
  
Then he slammed the door behind him.

And Joe felt horrible. He really hadn’t meant to get Derek in trouble, but the liaison took it in stride. Simply lifted a hand to Joe’s apologetic face and shook his head, explaining he did the right thing. Lucio did deserve to know, and _‘he’s right, I should have told him earlier.’_

They decided to go update Booker, and Andy together in the staff area. And though Joe was surprised by Quynh’s sudden appearance, she explained that Lucio wanted to talk to Nicky alone, so they all sat around the table discussing the events from the night before.   
  
When Lucio walked into the staff area, he casually explained to Quynh that she could report back to her shift, then waved Mia over to him, speaking quietly enough that Joe wasn’t sure what he was telling her. But the older woman nodded, and walked behind Quynh to the main living area. 

Joe again wanted to follow, but this time Andy caught his gaze, and shook her head. It wasn’t really meant as an order, but she suggested he had a long night, _and_ morning, _‘you should get some rest’_ . She promised to wake him if Nicky asked for him, but that he could always talk to him later.   
  
And Joe had relented, because he was pretty exhausted when it was all said and done.   
  


_But now_ as he stepped through the staff doors, Joe looked forward to clearing the air with Nicky. Though it was Andy he spotted first. As soon as he walked into the living room, she looked up from the magazine she was reading and called him over to the couch. He still glanced around the area, wondering where Nicky was, but figured it would be good to have a check in with Andy about how the evening had gone so far.   
  
She said it had been better once Nicky had some rest, and food, and that he was currently out back swimming - which was a good sign to Joe - and he relaxed further into the cushions, relieved. Andy flung the magazine onto the coffee table, and leaned her head back against the hard edge of the sofa, closing her eyes, “So have you decided what you’re going to tell him about last night?”

Joe ran his hand over the wisps of curls on the side of head, his fingertips lightly scratching the scalp, “Doubt Lucio wants Nicky to know.”  
  
Andy opened her eyes, but didn’t look at him, “You’re not going to tell him it was you who made sure Keane wasn’t around at nights, either?” Joe shook his head silently, and she huffed, “If you aren’t going to be honest with him, at least be honest with yourself.” 

Joe lowered his hand along the edge of the sofa, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“That you’re shouldering the burden of secrets,” she shifted her head a little, looking over at him, “And you’re only doing it, because you care about him.” 

“Andy - “ he replied softly, wanting to deny it, but not finding himself able to lie to her as easily as the others.

“Joe, he won’t always be a client,” she pointed out, before she smirked, “and I sign your checks, I know you got enough saved to stick around for a few months afterwards to figure out what you want -” Then she rolled her shoulders against the stiff backing of the sofa, closing her eyes again, “ - and it’s obvious what you want.” 

“Look, even _if_ -” Joe immediately countered, but Andy merely smiled, knowing full well she was absolutely right. There was no point in arguing, and he started to rise to his feet, a little annoyed she could read him this well, “One thing at a time - let’s just get this job done first.”   
  
Andy raised her hand to her forehead, giving him a lazy salute, “Whatever you say, soldier.”   
  
Joe wanted to grumble, but she seemed halfway asleep already, determined to take a nap while him and Nicky chatted outside. He loosened the grip on his jacket, and rolled his eyes, grinning, “Thanks, boss.”

* * *

The night air was crisp, cooling as the sun was setting, and Joe paused for a moment by the open glass door. Nicky wasn’t swimming, but sitting along the edge of the pool, his knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. He must have just climbed out though, the water droplets were still dripping off his skin, and Joe took a deep breath, trying not to be distracted by the goosebumps forming on the flesh.

Of course Nicky noticed him approaching, but didn’t actually look up at him until Joe was close enough to bend over and drape his jacket over his bare shoulders. His wide eyes stared up at him, but Joe merely gave him a soft smile, “You looked cold.”  
  
He took a step back, sat down cross legged, and leaned back onto his hands while Nicky adjusted the jacket, wrapping his fingers along the leather lapels. He mumbled a quiet _‘thanks’_ , but Joe caught the smile he was trying to contain by keeping his head down, “I just - “   
  
“I’m so-”   
  
They spoke at the same time, then paused when they realized. Joe chuckled lightly, and Nicky shrugged his right shoulder, “Sorry, can I go first?”   
  
Joe was surprised he wanted to talk first, but nodded, curious. Nicky took a deep breath, and stared at the stone floor between them, “I - I was worried earlier that you might want to quit.”   
  
Out of all the things he had thought they might discuss that evening, that one took him by surprise. He didn’t know where he would have gotten that idea, but Joe tilted his head and cheerfully explained, “Not getting rid of me that easily -” Nicky smiled, but kept his head down, and Joe pressed off his hands, hunching over slightly, “so uh, why were you worried about that?” 

Nicky shifted his eyes towards his boots, but didn’t raise them higher, “I thought I might have offended you last night with my behavior.” 

“Keane behaved badly, not you - “ 

“No, I mean -” Nicky’s fingers curled tighter along the edge of his jacket, “how I got um, flirty with you last night.” 

“Oh, _that_ ,” Joe chuckled, but he caught the way Nicky flinched at the laugh. He had implied he hadn’t remembered what was said at the Club, but Joe quickly put together that Nile had likely mentioned the bed incident. When Nicky didn’t say anything else, Joe figured he’d at least point out he wasn’t offended by his behavior (certainly not enough to quit over it). Then maybe he could work on his apology next. He tipped his head towards him, waiting for Nicky to meet his eyes. When he did, he smiled, “I know you were drunk, so I didn’t take it personally.” 

“Mm,” Nicky’s cheeks warmed, and he glanced away, “right.” 

* * *

As glad as Nicky was to know that Joe wasn’t quitting, and that he hadn’t offended him, he wondered once again about the mixed signals from Joe. He was certain when he had come out, and placed his jacket on his shoulders, that it implied something - but now Nicky wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe Joe really had thought he was just cold, his gesture nothing more than a simple act of kindness. He stared towards the water, unsure what to say next . . .   
  
“Nicky - “ he closed his eyes, relishing in how tender his name sounded on Joe’s lips. It felt as comforting as the warmth from his jacket, “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

He finally felt comfortable enough to lower his legs, curving them beside himself as he leaned on his arm. He wanted to give Joe his full attention to whatever he was going to say next, eager to hopefully understand what he had meant earlier. When their eyes locked, Joe’s fingers curved around his ankles, almost like he needed something to hold onto under Nicky’s stare, “I - just wanted to clarify that I don’t think you’re dumb.” He was relieved to hear it, about to say as much, but Joe elaborated before he could, “I think you’re brilliant, sweet, and kind. So kind actually, that - “  
  
Nicky urged him to continue with a tilt to his head, and Joe sighed, “That I’m worried someone will take advantage of you. And I - don’t want you to dismiss a warning signal next time.”

 _That_ made Nicky laugh, “Joe, practically everything gives my nerves a warning signal.” 

“Not all are meant to be ignored,” Joe pointed out, then made a suggestion, “And if you aren’t sure, let’s talk about it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How does Keane make you feel?”

Nicky didn’t look away this time, feeling comfortable enough to be honest, though still a little nervous, “I - I feel bad for saying it, but - he does make me a bit uncomfortable?” 

“Then don’t feel bad for telling him to back off next time,” Joe shrugged, _‘as if it was that simple’_. 

“I - don’t think it’s that easy - “ 

“Well, he won’t be here during the nights anymore,” he looked over at him, grinning, “and you got a whole team around you.” 

Nicky smirked at the idea of his security team forming a circle around him in some sort of protective shield, “He’s a bit of a perv Joe, but I doubt I have to worry about the guy.” 

“That’s because he knows he’d have to get through me, to get to you.”   
  
Nicky was stunned by such a bold declaration, certain that Joe was just teasing. 

But when he looked over at him Joe _winked_ , and Nicky blinked around his surprise, not really sure how to respond to that.   
  
When Joe started to rise to his feet, Nicky began to push off the jacket, but Joe raised his hands, “No, keep it tonight, until you’re ready to come inside.”   
  
Nicky nodded, rolling it back over his shoulders, and enjoying the way it felt on his back, “Thank you.”   
  
Joe gave him a soft smile, then shoved his hands in his pockets, “Is everything - alright now?”   
  
It was a loaded question, far too vague and left plenty of room for interpretation. But Nicky hoped he meant if everything was okay between _them_ . He leaned his head back, and answered confidently, “Everything’s alright.”   
  
Joe looked downright relieved, “See you tomorrow?”   
  
“See you tomorrow,” Nicky smiled, “Goodnight, Joe.”   
  
“Goodnight, Nicky,” Joe grinned, before he headed inside.   
  
Once he was certain no one was looking, Nicky lifted his shoulder slightly, leaning his nose close to the jacket. He probably should have insisted on him taking it back, but it smelled like Joe, and Nicky relished how nice it felt to be wrapped inside of it.   
  


* * *

_June 22nd - Sunday_

_Di Genova Property_

_Staff Gardens_

_Afternoon . . ._

Joe had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, standing beside Andy, as they watched Lykon and none other than Nile sparring by the low hill at the corner of the property. 

Andy had asked Lucio earlier if he was okay with them doing another training session, which actually served as a good guise for her to check in on Nicky’s Dad, and see how he was holding up. But he was quite accommodating to anything that would ensure Nicky’s security detail were _‘well trained’_ and had no problem with it.   
  
Booker had barely roped off an area to work with Lykon on a few moves, when Nile had arrived and saw what was going on. She and Andy had been in deep conversation about the training sessions on Friday when he and Lykon had a go at them, and Nile had asked all sorts of questions about TOG at the dinner table that evening. But seeing that another one was about to take place, she asked without an ounce of hesitation if she could go a round.   
  
They all glanced at one another, but waited on Andy for final approval. She called over to Booker to help wrap Nile’s hands and she gave her a broad smile before practically skipping over to the men. But Joe wasn’t so sure about it. He knew Nile was training for the Academy in the fall, likely itching for a fight to show off some moves she had been working on. Yet some sessions in a gym were a far cry from hand to hand combat. He didn’t think Nile was incapable, but he hoped she wouldn’t end up hurting herself - or that Nicky would be mad at him for not stepping in.   
  
Joe realized fairly quickly that he had misjudged her horribly.

Nile needed a little guidance on her form, to make the swings a bit more controlled, but she ducked out and away from every move Lykon was throwing at her. She was fast too, easily gliding from side to side, before managing to kick Lykon’s leg out from under him. He landed on the grass with a groan, and Nile hurriedly reached for him, already apologizing. 

Joe glanced over at Andy, and he knew the look she was giving her all too well. She was studying Nile seeing if she had potential, and the smirk on Andy’s face implied she had passed the test. 

“Andy, if you’re thinking of recruiting her, don’t.”

“What,” she looked over at him, “why not?”  
  
“Because I’m pretty sure Nicky will be mad if you take her away for a year,” he tried to sound casual about it, but there was some truth in his assessment. Joe couldn’t really imagine how Nicky would do without Nile around. Sure, they’d been separated while they both went to college, but according to Nicky they had spent most holidays together, and even some weekends. But the training usually took a year, and always at one location. No visitors allowed.   
  
“She wouldn’t be in a cell Joe,” Andy crossed her arms over her chest, and smiled, “she can call him anytime.”   
  
“Not the same,” Joe objected, but more for Nicky’s sake than Nile’s. She seemed positively radiant as she chatted with Booker and Lykon about all the training they did for TOG, and the places they got to travel to. And he could already see her likely wanting to at least have a discussion with Andy about potentially joining the team. But he worried for Nicky, “It would be too hard for him, Andy.”

“Hm, he’d have you to keep him company while she’s away,” she teased.  
  
He tucked his chin close to his chest, a faint chuckle bubbling up, “Don’t start - “ Andy leaned her arm close to his, bumping her bare elbow against him, and he rolled his eyes, “Just wait till the end of the summer okay?”   
  
But Andy shrugged, flashing him a coy smile, “No promises.”

“Hey guys, we’re ready!”  
  
Joe and Andy looked back at Quynh who was leaning out the door. She had a large bowl of popcorn balanced on her hip, while her other hand held onto the frame, “Serena and Cami are already waiting in the theater room.”

Nicky had mentioned earlier in the day that Nile, Serena and Cami were coming over after lunch (while her baby would stay behind with her husband). When he asked Joe if he would like to join them, he hurriedly added that the others could be there as well, before shoving his jacket into Joe’s hands when he said he’d love to. He hadn’t seen Nicky since, but if Quynh said they were ready, he assumed it was because Nicky said so.  
  
The theater room was halfway between the main living area, and the staff wing, easily able to fit them with plenty of seats left over. The screen took up one half of the wall, and there was a small table to the right that was well stocked with rows of various boxed candies. A popcorn machine was nearby, and Nicky was currently scooping some into paper cones to place on a tray.   
  
Joe walked right over to him, while the rest of the group slowly filtered in, “Need some help?”   
  
Nicky smiled and pointed to the box underneath the table, “Could you hand out the 3D glasses?”   
  
“I forgot to ask earlier,” he bent down pulling out the small container, before opening the lid, “What are we watching?”   
  
Nicky made a face, practically embarrassed, “I let Cami pick from some of my Mom’s favorites - “ he looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure she wasn’t close. Then he turned back to Joe, downright apologetic, “She chose _‘The Little Mermaid’_ .”   
  
Joe’s shoulders shook from the laugh he was trying to keep contained, “I cannot imagine Andy sitting through it, but I also can’t wait to see her face when the title comes on the screen.”   
  
Nicky must have imagined her shocked expression, and stifled his own laugh with the back of his curled hand close to his mouth, “You really think we shouldn’t tell her?”   
  
Joe stood up with the box in his hands, and gave a sly grin, “Hell no.”   
  
Nicky curved his lips tight, and reached for the tray of popcorn to help pass out.   
  
  


* * *

Nicky and Joe had passed out the popcorn and the glasses to everyone in the room before taking two seats off to the side. Sure enough, as soon as the opening music played, Andy scoffed and rolled her eyes while Quynh practically giggled behind her as they walked out. Serena and Cami were snuggled close to the front, while Booker, Lykon and Nile seemed downright indifferent, chatting casually as they munched on a stockpile of boxed candy balanced on their laps.  
  
Nicky was already wearing his glasses, watching the title pop off the screen, before he felt Joe lean closer towards him, “So this was one of your Mom’s favorite movies?”   
  
“Mm-hm,” Nicky smiled softly, “She was a big Disney fan, called me _‘Topolino’_ when I was growing up.” When he realized Joe wasn’t following, he looked over to him and saw he hadn’t put his glasses on yet. His dark eyes gazed down at him and Nicky tried not to stare, “Um, this Italian name for Mickey Mouse.” He shifted in the wide theater chair, and leaned his head back against the red leather, “But it literally means, _‘little mouse’_.” 

“I don’t know, Nicky,” Joe sank back in his chair, facing forward as he put the glasses on, “No offense to your mom, but I would never describe you as 'mousy'.”   
  
Nicky’s jaw flexed at Joe’s grinning profile, and he tried not to read anything in the comment.   
Joe was likely just being charming _‘as always’_.

Even though Joe didn’t say anything else for the rest of the movie, Nicky was still far too distracted just sitting that close to him to pay attention to any of it. 

* * *

_Meanwhile . . ._

“There you are.”  
  
Copley fingers flinched around the cigarette balanced between the digits. He glanced behind him, already knowing exactly who was approaching, but tried not to let his nerves get the best of him, “Hi, Keane.”   
  
The man reached up, taking the cigarette from between Copley’s fingers and bringing it to his mouth. Copley didn’t even bother trying to protest, but after he took two puffs from it, raised his hands when Keane offered it back, “Since Lucio doesn’t want to talk to me at the moment, I guess I gotta come to you and ask my questions.”   
  
Copley winced, though Keane seemed indifferent to the discomfort he was causing, “What - questions do you have?”   
  
Keane pinched the cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke in Copley’s direction, “Just wondering why you have so many guards around here.”   
  
Copley repeated the script the agents had given him to rehearse, “Well, I’m staying with Lucio for a while, so security between the two of us - “   
  
“No, you misunderstood,” Keane’s eyes shot up towards him, and Copley froze under that cold stare, “why does Nicky have a security detail?”   
  
“Oh, I - ,” Copley faltered, unsure how to explain, “You’d have to ask Lucio about it.”   
  
“I’m asking you,” he instantly retorted, seemingly already losing patience with Copley’s fumbling stance, “I mean, is there something going on that Merrick needs to know about?”   
  
Copley shook his head, “No, _no_ , everything’s fine.”   
  
Keane’s face relaxed, and he raised a hand to rest on Copley's shoulder, his lips curved into a downright devious grin, “Then Nicky doesn’t exactly need a detail if everything’s fine, right?” Copley glanced down, nodding because he really didn’t know how to counter that. Keane dropped the cigarette between them, “Copley - “   
  
He raised his head slowly, and Keane’s grip tightened on his shoulder, uncomfortably so, “I want them gone in the next week, or I call Merrick, understood?”   
  
Copley looked back down, “Understood.”

* * *

  
  
  


**NOTES:** golly gosh, I sure do hope nothing bad happens to Nicky in the next chapter, since _no one_ told him the truth about Keane’s behavior @____@  
How's everyone doing? This chapter was 90% angst and emotionssssss <<;   
  
But we got some behind the scenes insight as to where the heck Lucio was - (though more on that next week) - AND he knew about Nile and Nicky's nonverbal language?? ANNDDD the friendship goals continue, because how sweet is it to think of little kid Nile and little kid Nicky playing together while he was struggling with some grief afterwards . . . and traumatic mutism (which we'll see a little more of in this fic, too). And oh ho ho _yesh_ for protective Joe ready to kick Keane's ass amiright?? Also, who else loves the idea of Nile joining TOG?? But I'll admit, my personal favorite parts where the conversations between Joe and Nicky by the pool, and the the theater room <3  
  
 **Anyways, coming up next week ;)**  
  
We'll have a found family lunch hosted by Nicky. His mom's anniversary (and a flashback!) - and we'll learn a little something about Joe’s past. We'll have the fundraiser, as well some information as to why Lucio hasn’t been around. And . . . a _sort of_ date for Joe and Nicky - before we end it on a cliffhanger T______T  
  
Kudos and comments feed us, but thank you for reading either way and see ya next week <3


	7. Fourth Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week of important events leave multiple characters examining their journeys with grief. The path is not linear.  
> But there are beautiful moments of hope of a bright, impending future, too.
> 
> . . . until a storm rolls in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! <3 Thank you all once again for the continued support of our fic!!  
> Your kudos, comments, and theories greatly encourage us and we appreciate them :)
> 
> We got a few BIG things happening this chapter, and there will be some end notes, too. But first, I just want to point out a reminder of some our tags above. Like there is _heavy discussions_ of grief in this chapter. We will have Nicky processing his mother's passing on her anniversary, and we will have a flashback where she will ---- SPOILERS ---- she and him will be sharing about her being "sick", as well as her talking about Nicky's brother who passed away as a stillbirth. There is NO flashback/description of that, but we can appreciate that even a vague reference to stillbirth could be quite hard to read, so we wanted to make sure to give a heads up about that. 
> 
> Joe will be processing some of his own grief to privately, and it's much more "raw" for him, and pretty sad to be honest. BUT I really did try to balance it out with some hope for the future . . . only to end on a cliffhanger - eek.
> 
> See you in the end notes!

* * *

_ “Grief can be the garden of compassion.” - Rumi _

* * *

  
  


_ June 23rd - Monday _

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Lunch . . . _

“Do you need some help with that?”   
  
Joe was leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, with one hand gesturing towards the heavy basket Nicky was lugging from the sink to the counter. He merely glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow with a light smile, “Don’t think I can handle chopping up a few vegetables?”   
  
“I’m sure you’re more capable than I am in the kitchen,” Joe easily conceded, before stepping into the kitchen, already reaching for one of the corners of the basket, “I just figured you were kind enough to host this little BBQ, the least I can do is help with the prep.”   
  
They hoisted it onto the counter together, before Nicky leaned his arm on the side closest to him, grinning, “The idea was for me to offer a ‘thank you’ to the team, Joe, not turn you into a legumier.”   
  
Joe had no idea what the heck that was, but he assumed it was Nicky’s way of saying he didn’t need to help. He was not that easily deterred though, and waved his hand between them, “Scoot over.” Nicky pursed his lips around a smirk, but relented, pointing out which knives Joe could use.

After washing his hands, he stood close to Nicky to use the same large, wooden, cutting board he had set up on the counter. Joe had barely started, quite transfixed by how quickly Nicky was able to slice through them, before wanting to ask, “You know that you don’t like,  _ have _ to go all out like this just to say ‘thank you’, right?”   
  
“I guess if I’m being honest -” Nicky didn’t even miss a beat, balancing slices of mixed greens on the blade of the knife, and easily sliding them onto a large platter nearby, “it wasn’t  _ just _ a ‘thank you’.”   
  
“Oh?”   
  
Nicky reached for an eggplant from the basket, keeping his eyes down as he began to slice into it, “I sort of wanted to be able to enjoy a meal with everyone together, like we had on Friday when we ordered the food?”   
  
“Nicky,” Joe could feel his fingers tighten around the handle of his own knife, “You should have just said so.” He gazed at him, hoping he could hear the sincerity in his voice, “You don’t have to make a feast, in order to earn a seat at the table with us.”   
  
“It’s a BBQ,” Nicky shrugged his shoulder, still chopping away, “some veggies, some meat, easy peasy.”   
  
Joe didn’t like the idea of Nicky brushing himself off like that, and became more focused on assuring Nicky, then paying attention to the direction he was cutting in, “Please don’t dismiss yourself so easily -  _ ouch! _ ” Joe dropped the knife, and it clattered against the counter.

The cut wasn’t deep, but enough that it stung and blood immediately pooled before landing in thick droplets on the counter. What was actually more surprising was just how fast Nicky’s hands were on him, already tugging him close to the sink and turning on the water before Joe even had a chance to respond.   
  
“Are you alright?” his worried eyes shifted between the cut on his finger, and Joe’s face. But he only nodded, completely distracted by the feel of Nicky’s warm hand gliding over his wrist as he tried inspecting the small wound, “Still got that first aid kit in your pocket?”   
  
Joe gave a silent affirmative, and went to reach for it, but Nicky stilled him from pulling his hand back from the water.

When he looked back at him slightly confused, Nicky explained, “Don’t want you bleeding on your pants.” 

Joe leaned his hips against the edge of the counter, and gave him a sly grin, “Guess I’ll have to wait till it clots then, because it’s in my right pocket, and I can’t reach it with my left arm.”   
  
“I - I could get it,” Nicky offered, and Joe hoped his eyes didn’t widen at the prospect of Nicky  _ reaching into his pants pocket _ to search for the small first aid kit. Surely, he was just trying to be helpful, and Joe tried not to read into it. In all honesty, he  _ could _ have simply informed Nicky that he had four other pairs of the same cargo pants in his go bag. A little blood on one really didn’t matter, he could have left it at that.   
  
_ But . . . _ he tilted his lower body a little closer, and tipped his chin down, “Middle one.”   
  
Nicky glimpsed down as he aimed his hand towards it, then locked eyes with him, “This one?”   
  
Joe felt like his mouth was dry, but he managed a quiet,  _ ‘mm-hmm,’  _ before Nicky _ slowly _ unzipped it. His lips parted slightly, but Nicky never broke eye contact, not even when his hand dipped within the pocket. And when Joe could feel the press of his fingers against the fabric of his outer thigh it took every bit of restraint not to lean into it.   
  
What a paradox Nicky was. The man couldn’t meet the eyes of half his staff, or handle a phone call without stuttering around fumbling nerves, but reaching into Joe’s pocket didn't even make him blink? If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect the glint in Nicky’s bright eyes were some sort of tease, like he knew  _ exactly _ the effect he was having on Joe . . . and was now taking his sweet time pulling that first aid kit out.   
  
When he finally did, he glided his curled fingers along the fabric, over the edge of his pants,  _ and _ skimmed the bottom of his shirt, before pulling his hand back. Only once he carefully placed the kit on the counter, and reached over to turn the water off, did he finally break eye contact. And Joe was able to release a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.    
  
“Don’t faint,” Nicky joked, and it helped break the tension. It was what he had told Nicky that very first day when he was stitching him up. Now here he was, digging through various sized band aids, “Should just take a moment.”   
  
“Take your time,” Joe tried to sound relaxed about it, but darn it if his voice didn’t sound hoarse. He swallowed, hoping it would help. Nicky carefully wrapped the bandaid around the cut on his finger, then paused, like he was waiting for something. Joe wasn’t exactly sure for what though, and wiggled it a little in his grip, “Don’t think it’s bleeding through if that’s what you’re worried about.”   
  
“No, it’s not that,” Nicky explained in a soft voice, “My mom, she used to -” He stilled again, and then slowly lowered his face close to Joe’s hand. Nicky’s lips were aiming for his finger, and he could feel his whole body tensing at the sight. It was the faintest touch, just the  _ slightest _ swipe of flesh that really made more contact with the band aid than his own skin. But for one moment, Nicky’s lips were on him, and Joe closed his eyes relishing the brief encounter.   
  
“ . . . Seal it with a kiss.”   
  
Joe slowly opened his eyes, hazily looking down at Nicky who was still staring at his hand. He was just about to say something,  _ anything _ . Even opened his mouth to start, though he had no idea what he could say -    
  
“Andy said, and I quote, ‘Where’s the beef?’”    
  
Nicky took a big step back, letting go of Joe’s hand and he struggled not to reach out after him. He was glad his back was facing Nile’s, because he needed a moment here. But Nicky seemed downright unfazed, merely rolling his eyes at her, “I’ll bring it out.” He walked over to the island where some precut pieces were on a dish, and balanced it between his two hands, “Can you help Joe with the veggie platter?”   
  
He turned slowly, just in time to catch her soft smile directed at Nicky, “Sure, hun.”   
  
Nicky didn’t look back at Joe, but he still caught the way Nile’s fingers brushed against Nicky’s elbow when he was passing her. He tipped his head close to hers, and she tapped his arm twice, before he nodded and walked outside. 

Joe had noticed their little movements before, their silent way of communicating, and he thought it was nice for Nicky to have a way to share how he was doing. But considering what just happened, he sort of wished he had a translation guide to understand what their little exchange just now meant.    


As soon as Nicky had stepped out onto the stone porch, Nile looked over her shoulder and crooned, “Kitchen romance?”   
  
“Not exactly,” Joe held up his bandaged finger with a smile.

Nile turned her body more towards him, “He was kissing your finger?”   
  
_ ‘You saw that . . . great’ _ , but Joe could not have this conversation with Nile right now. He hadn’t even had a chance to process it himself yet. Better to write it off for now, he was still going to have to sit out there with the others and pretend it hadn’t happened, “He said it was something his mom did.”   
  
“Oh,” Nile shifted and walked over towards the island, “that makes sense it was on his mind. The anniversary is tomorrow.”   
  
Joe stepped up beside her, already reaching for the second platter, “Of her passing?”   
  
“He didn’t mention it?” Nile peered up at him, and Joe shook his head, “I’m surprised, he seems so comfortable around you . . .” She picked up the platter, talking more to herself than him, “Then again, everyone’s a little different when it comes to grief.”   
  
Joe recalled Nile’s parental loss, too, but the way she kept her head down, implied she wasn’t really in the mood to discuss it. He could appreciate not wanting to go into details over a loss, so he figured he’d ask her for her insight instead, “Is there anything I should know for tomorrow? Anything I can do to help him through the day?”   
  
Nile lifted her eyes, and looked out towards the backyard. Joe followed her line of sight, but from the angle they were standing in, they couldn’t see him (though they could hear Andy shouting instructions to Booker at the grill, and Nicky laughing). Nile’s fingers tightened around the platter, “I mean, if he didn’t bring it up, maybe I shouldn’t say anything - “ Then she stared up at him, “but I won’t be able to come over till late tomorrow, and it would probably be good for you to know what to expect.” 

She gently placed the tray down, and Joe mimicked the move, realizing this might be a longer conversation, “He’ll spend most of the day listening to her albums."   
  
Joe leaned back on his hands, curled around the edge of the counter, "Like a collection?”   
  
“No, her own albums, she was a professional singer, back in Italy, mostly within the Genova region she lived in," she glanced down, smiling as if she was recalling a memory, "but beautiful voice.” She sunk further against the island, "poor Nicky, he’d sing all her favorite songs to her while she was stuck in that bed.” 

Joe imagined small, eight year old Nicky, probably confused and worried, trying to cheer his mother up with her songs.  _ ‘Because of course that's what he would do’ _ , though it didn't make Joe feel any less sad for Nicky, “Does he sing them now?”   
  
“Hm?" Nile was pulled from her own thoughts, then blinked up at him, "Oh, he tries not to, but he’s got such a beautiful voice, too, she trained him pretty early on. When he found his voice again, he sometimes sang around his stutter when it got too hard to talk." Then she leaned in closer, like she was revealing a secret, in hushed tones, "But now he only does it when he thinks nobody is paying attention. Like, in the shower.”    
  
As endearing as it was to imagine a frazzled Nicky singing tunes in the shower, there was something else in Nile’s statement that Joe was even more curious about, “Found his voice again?”   
  
Nile’s eyes widened, “Crap, I’m probably saying way too much." She gave him a pleading look, hoping he'd understand, "I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude because I know I started this conversation, but I should let him share this, you know?”   
  
“Of course,” Joe assured her, because really he did. But maybe he could find another way to help Nicky, if Nile was comfortable with it, “Nile, can I ask you some questions around his mom?”   
  
Nile seemed relieved, “Sure.”   
  
“So, she sang a lot, but was there something else she enjoyed after coming to the US?”   
  
Nile balanced the heel of her shoe on her toe for a moment, trying to recall. Joe caught the moment something registered, “Her gardens, she was always in them." She leaned her head against her shoulder, smiling, "Nicky and I would be in the pool, and she’d be in the gardens.”   
  
Joe was confused and pointed out that he was unaware of any gardens on the property.

“Mm, the old house," Nile elaborated, “Lucio moved them right after Oriana died.”   
  
That information did make a memory from the week before pop into Joe’s mind. From the day Nicky and him were at the farmer’s market, when he was able to talk about the flowers, and suggest which one to pick for his mother. He already suspected the answer, but asked Nile anyways, “Was she - into flowers, and their meanings?”   
  
Nile thought for a moment, then chuckled, “Ha, I forgot about that, but yeah, she made me a flower crown once and told me how each flower she picked had a different message in it.”   
  
An idea struck Joe, and he wondered how quickly he could get things into place. He’d probably need to talk to Mia, maybe even Lucio about it . . . “What are you planning, Joe?" Nile tipped her head closer, "I can see the gears turning in your mind.”   
  
It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Nile to keep a secret, but he liked the idea of surprising Nicky too much to take the chance. He playfully pretended to zip his mouth, and she sarcastically scoffed before reaching for one of the vegetable platters behind her. Joe did the same, but as they made their way to the door, he leaned close to her, “Have you told him yet about Andy’s offer?”   
  
“No,” Nile answered, then glanced up at him, “figured I’d wait till later in the week?”   
  
“I understand,” it made sense for her to want to wait till after the anniversary. Or even just till things were more finalized, since technically, Nile hadn’t even signed the contract. There was a mini boot camp sort of session next month she would need to pass first. And then if both her and Andy agreed she was ready, she’d sign the paperwork then. He was certain Nile would be great for the team, but he still wished Andy would have waited a little longer to recruit her.   
  
“Joe,” she glanced over at Nicky who was standing by the rest of the team a good twenty feet away, “when it comes to tomorrow, can I give you a tip?”   
  
“Please do,” Joe was not above accepting help to make the day less painful for Nicky.   
  
“Nicky isn’t the kind to accept help easy,” Joe huffed, completely agreeing. He seemed to think of others easily, and falter when the attention was turned onto him, “if you are planning on doing something for him, you’re going to have to make him believe it’s just as much for your benefit as it is for his.”   
  
Joe observed her for a moment, still silently watching Nicky. She didn’t have to tell him that, but it felt like a supportive gesture, like she hoped he  _ could _ help Nicky. And he was grateful for her placing that kind of trust in him, “Thank you, Nile.”   
  
She peered back at him, trying to play it down, “I figure if I have to leave for a year, I’ll feel better knowing you’re here for him.”   
  
Joe groaned, “Not you, too.”

She giggled, already walking away from him and over to the grill, while Joe tried hiding his own grin following behind. 

Though Andy and Booker had been playfully bickering over how to best grill the steak, once Quynh was able to pull Andy down into her lap, things settled into more casual conversation. 

Lykon hovered near Booker, while Nicky and Nile talked about going for a dip in the pool after the BBQ, and Joe took a seat off to the side as he came to a decision.

If he was going to convince Nicky about his gesture tomorrow, Joe was likely going to have to admit something about himself as well. It was a daunting task, not something he was sure Nicky could even help shoulder. So he figured he wouldn’t tell him the specifics, keep it brief, and hopefully Nicky would be too distracted to remember to ask him for details later.    
  
It would be hard to revisit that grief tomorrow, but if it helped Nicky’s even a little, Joe would do it. 

When everyone else was still distracted, Joe quietly stood up, and went looking for Mia.

  
  


* * *

_ June 24th - Tuesday  _

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Nicky’s Bedroom  _ _   
_

_ Midmorning _

Nicky had been awake since before the sun came up, snuggling against Felicia, and cried no less than three times while listening to his mom's albums. It was so easy to pretend he was back in her arms again, listening to her singing him to sleep, but every time the song stopped, and her voice faded away, he’d hazily open his eyes, and have to remember how alone he really was in the room.

_ ‘Sixteen years’. _

Time did help, but the holidays and anniversaries were still hard.

Nicky had thought of telling Joe about the significance of today, but the thought of crying in front of him felt downright embarrassing. And surely by now, Mia, or someone else, likely explained why he was hiding in his room and listening to Italian music from thirty years ago.   
  
_ ‘Not hiding, grieving’. _

That’s what today was. Honor her memory, and honor his pain.   


As painful as the process was, it was necessary so it didn’t bleed into the rest of his week, specifically the need for him to be present at the fundraiser in two days. 

If there was one thing that Nicky retained from all those years of therapy, it was that days like today were “opportunities to lean into the grief.” He hated it, but he had made the mistake of trying to push it down and avoid it plenty before, only for it to seep out of him at the worst times. So he learned to compartmentalize it, to make space for it around certain days, “sit with it”, and admit just how much he missed her.   
  
‘ _ Painful, but necessary’,  _ Nicky dipped his head against Felicia’s stomach,  _ ‘what a horrible metaphor’ _ .

_ Knock, knock. _

Nicky blinked his eyes open, and heard Joe’s voice through the door quietly calling his name. He hurriedly sat up, swiping at the dried tear streaks on his cheeks, making sure no fresh ones had fallen, “Um, just a moment.” 

He looked down at himself, the simple t-shirt and pajama pants passing for someone who at least  _ sort  _ of had it together. His eyes likely looked pink, and the skin underneath them blotchy, but he felt certain he wouldn’t burst into tears, so hopefully, Joe wouldn’t begrudge his less than presentable look. He stood up, smoothing out his shirt with a quick pat of his hands, and walked across the room.   
  
When Nicky opened the door, he was surprised by how sullen Joe looked, and realized somebody must have told him about the day. He was leaning against the wall, head tilted close to the threshold, “I need your help.”

Nicky was surprised, it was the last thing he had expected Joe to greet him, “For what?”

Joe’s brow furrowed, causing that same worry line that Nicky still wished he could press away for him, “I need to pick out some flowers for my garden. And I thought you might know which ones to choose based on flower meanings?”

Nicky could only imagine how happy it would have made his mother to know she passed that knowledge onto him. Something he could use to help Joe with today of all days. He mumbled around the emotion, “Yeah, I could do that.”

“I know today might not be the best day for it,” Joe pushed off the wall, his arms folded across his chest, “but I would really like to do something special for - someone I lost, too.” He lifted his weary eyes to Nicky, “I think it would be something helpful for me, too.” 

As much as he had planned on being in his room for most of the day, this was a welcome distraction, and the thought of getting to help Joe felt comforting. His request made it clear that he had experienced grief, too and Nicky stared at him for a moment, “I’m sorry for your loss, Joe.”

Joe took a step back, “Yeah, me too.” He gestured as began to turn away, “I’ll bring the car around, and meet you in the front?”

Nicky murmured a quiet,  _ ‘Okay.’ _

* * *

_ Forty Minutes Later . . .  _

Nicky had tried asking Joe where they were going on their long drive, but he played it coy, evading his questions by declaring it a surprise. He had far too high of a startle reflex to normally enjoy them, but the long drive helped settle his curiosity. 

Most of it was spent with Joe asking him questions about his mom, like, what his favorite memories of her were. And, somehow, it didn’t feel hard to talk about her with him, especially when it came to reflections of happier times. Yet now that Joe was pulling up to the entrance of a gated community, Nicky studied the area, not quite able to place the familiarity with it.

Joe pulled up to the gate, chatting with a security guard, while Nicky sat there quietly figuring he’d explain momentarily. Once the guard stepped back, Joe had rolled up his window, and Nicky gave him a inquisitive stare, “So, what exactly are we doing here?”   


“Hm, I wondered if you would recognize it,” Joe was looking at the street signs, turning right, and heading down towards a house at the end of the block, “Mia said you hadn’t been back since you moved.”   
  
Nicky was downright confused, but when Joe parked the car, he turned to see where they were, the sudden realization hitting him at the sight of the old house.  _ His _ old house,  _ ‘Joe brought me to my old house?’ _ He almost wanted to rush out, but curved his fingers around the seat belt instead, “What - what?”   
  
“The homeowners are on vacation, but I got permission from their security company to swing by here,” he could hear Joe unbuckling his own seat belt, but Nicky kept his gaze focused on the two story, brick house he still dreamed about sometimes, “we have to call them on video while we’re here, and show them which ones we’re clipping some pieces from, but they said we could.”

Nicky’s grip tightened on the seat belt, and he slowly looked over at Joe, “Could what?”

He gave Nicky a soft look, as if he  _ knew _ there was a chance that what he was about to say might make him emotional, “Go through your Mom’s garden and pick out some things.”

“Joe -” Nicky’s eyes watered, and he looked down, afraid to blink in case the tears fell.

Joe waited a moment, then quietly offered, “I can do most of the digging if you just point out which ones you’d like?”

Nicky agreed silently, trying not to crumble so easily, but managed to recall one important detail even with the emotions swirling inside his mind: this could be for Joe, too. Having a job right now to shift his focus on, could help him from succumbing to too many memories at once, and he let out a shallow breath, “What - what kind do you need for your loved one?”

Even though he wasn’t looking directly at him, Nicky still caught the way Joe flinched at his question. It was subtle, but it was definitely an unexpected question. He leaned further into his seat, and Nicky wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have asked after all. 

“His favorite color was yellow,” Joe’s voice didn’t sound strained, and when Nicky lifted his eyes to glance at him, he saw his lips curved into a soft smile, like it wasn’t necessarily painful to share, “a soft yellow, like the sun.”   


Nicky pondered over that line,  _ ‘like the sun’ _ . And as he stared at Joe, he contemplated how he was like that. Radiant, warm, and he wished he could bask in it for a little while longer, “Thank you, for this.”

Joe didn’t look over at him, but was still smiling as he offered to grab the shovels and bags from the trunk. He stepped out of the car, and Nicky was grateful for a moment to himself, to swipe at the tears in his eyes, and chuckle around a wet laugh. Because as hard as today was, he was going to get to bring a little piece of his mom home with him. He’d been there when she first planted them, and now, he would get to keep some. 

Joe opened the door for him, and Nicky reached for the empty bags to help carry them towards the back. They had walked across the yard together, but once they had rounded the house, and Nicky got to see how not much of it had changed, Joe stopped. He encouraged Nicky to walk ahead, and gave him a few minutes to take it all in. 

The memories flooded back easily, stripping away the years as his eyes scanned over the backyard. Nicky could picture himself in the pool, or running around with Nile. And of course, his mother, reading as they played, or listening to music. Though more often than not, she was on her hands and knees tending to the flowers. As his eyes roamed over towards the left, near the back deck, one memory stood out above the rest . . . 

_ “Mom?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Over here, Topolino,” Oriana didn’t turn around when she answered, but Nicky had already spotted her. She was on her knees, her gloved hands digging into the ground with a gardening tool while he walked over. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “What are you doing?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She paused, swiping some hair out her way that was sticking close to her eyes, “Tending to some special flowers.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Nicky giggled, “You say that about all of them.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ His mother laughed, dropping the gardening tool and reaching for him instead. She easily pulled him into her lap, and dipped her head close to his shoulder, “See the statue over there?” Nicky followed her pointed finger, staring at the small statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, “I wanted to ask her to pray for Roberto again.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Brother Roberto?” Nicky tilted his head to look up at her.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Mmhmm,” she held him a little tighter, but kept her eyes on the statue, “I planted lots of pretty flowers in his memory.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Because you were sad when he died?” _

_ Oriana looked down at Nicky, “Oh very sad, so sad I thought I would never sing again.” Nicky couldn’t even imagine that, “But flowers can spell out things, a secret language that is universal and speak for us when we can’t sometimes. So I planted all the things I couldn’t say out loud.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He looked over at the various flower arrangements that were centered around the statue, “Did it help?” _

_ “A little,” his mother leaned her head close to his, and he could feel her lips kissing his hair, “But I was still very scared when God gave me another little blessing.” That made him smile as he leaned further back against her chest. He already knew this story, but he loved her telling it again anyways, “And then you came so early, my sweet, Topolino. But look how strong you are now.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He didn’t feel all that strong, but wasn’t going to argue about it either. She sighed against him, looking back at the garden in front of them, “Yet we must always remember to pray for our loved ones. So, I keep up with his little garden, knowing our Mother watches over him.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Nicky crinkled his nose when he was certain she wouldn’t see. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he only felt silence when he prayed. When she hadn’t said anything else, he peered up at her, “Mom?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Hm?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Why was a nurse here today?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She didn’t look down at him when she answered, “Because I’m sick, Nicolò.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “When will you get better?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She shook her head, unsure. _

Nicky heard Joe walk over to him, and they stared down together at the slightly overgrown bundles of various flowers. The statue was no longer there, no evidence of even the patch where it once stood, but the flowers were: roses, gardenia’s, lilacs, hyacinth's, and - his mom’s favorites - lilies of the valley. And the daisies, for Roberto. 

He didn’t really know if he could ever pray for the dead the way his mom used to. He stopped praying the day she died, but he could bring some of Roberto's flowers back home with him.

  
  


* * *

Joe had handled the call with the owners, while Nicky shyly tried to explain the names of the ones he was picking. He must have said  _ ‘thank you’ _ about twenty times, but the elderly couple waved him off, and said Nicky was doing  _ them _ a favor by pruning the space a bit while they were on their summer vacation. 

Afterwards, when Joe loaded no less than five different plants in the trunk of the SUV, he wiped away the light sweat on his forehead, with the back of his hand. Just as he was about to close it, he caught sight of Nicky walking up to him, cupping one last bag between his hands: a small yellow flower. 

When Nicky explained the meaning behind the flower he chose, Joe couldn’t even respond around the emotion he was feeling. His singular objective had been to get some of Oriana’s plants to Nicky’s house, and so he pushed the grief down, for now. He did manage to mutter a quiet  _ ‘thank you’ _ , but even that sounded strained, and he was grateful when Nicky got into the car instead of pressing for information.    
  
Joe stared down at the flower, carefully examining it until he felt the familiar sting in his eyes. He shoved the flower in with the rest of the bunch, and slammed the trunk shut. 

Once they were back in the car, Joe sank against the seats and allowed the air conditioning to cool him off for a moment before he heard Nicky chuckling, “Let me at least buy you a cold drink, please?”   
  
He was too worn out to explain he was more angry, than thirsty, but the emotions had caused a mild burn to his throat. And he conceded that maybe a drink was a good idea. Nicky pointed to the first small coffee shop he had spotted on the way back home, and Joe pulled over to the curb. Joe had planned on getting out with him, but Nicky asked him to sit and he didn’t put up much of a protest. When Nicky came back with two iced teas, Joe had gulped half of it down before he smiled over at him, “So, tell me about your garden?”    
  
“To be honest, I haven’t started it yet,” he answered honestly, sitting up a little straighter, “this would be the first thing I planted.” He balanced the cup on his knee, trying to see the beauty in that, versus the regret he felt, “but that kind of makes it more special that  _ that _ flower would be the first one.”

“Do you have space for a garden?” Nicky took a sip of his drink, “You share an apartment with Booker, right?”

“In the city, yeah,” he leaned his head back against the headrest, “but I have another place, kind of a vacation house. Couple hours north of here. I’ll plant it there - “  _ ‘when this job is over, and I might not get to see you anymore.’ _

Nicky must have misread his sudden quietness, maybe even thought he was struggling with his grief. Because when he spoke up again, he quietly offered, “Since you can’t plant it right away - um, I could keep it in my room for a while, maybe even a few weeks? I mean I have like five planters going in there now, what’s one more?”

It was a simple offer, but it meant the world to him that Nicky was willing to do that. When he nodded over at him with a soft  _ ‘thank you’ _ , Nicky gave him a reassuring smile, and looked downright content. 

They both finished their drinks in comfortable silence.

* * *

_ Evening . . . _   
  
Once back home, Nicky and Joe shared a simple dinner and he thanked him again for helping him lug all the plants to his room. Joe had asked if he should find a spot for them outside, but his Dad had never transferred any of her flowers over when they moved. He never liked flowers in the house either, so Nicky doubted they would be welcomed anywhere else outside of his room. But to Joe, he merely waved it off, and said they  _ ‘could mature a bit’  _ in his room first. If Joe suspected he was lying, he didn’t bring it up, and wished him a  _ ‘good night’ _ .

Booker was now out there, but he never did come to his door, likely assuming he wanted space. Nicky sat at the edge of the bed, taking in the various plants that were now lined up against his window. He debated if maybe his Dad would at least like one of Roberto’s flowers, but then again, they never talked about him.  _ ‘Roberto’ _ , the ill fated first born son that died the same day he was born. Even though Lucio had never talked about it, his mother had said that his Dad had had a hard time afterwards.    
  
Years of therapy later, Nicky had to wonder if the reason they never quite bonded was because his Dad was afraid to. Either because Nicky wasn’t Roberto, or because he had already lost two people he cared about. So many people who knew his mom pointed out how much Nicky was like her. Her kindness, her voice, even her looks, passed down onto him. Maybe he was too stark a reminder of what Lucio lost,  _ and _ a reminder of who he wasn’t.    
  
As sympathetic as Nicky tried to be, he feared a darker reasoning. He was born two months early, spent weeks in the hospital, and was small for his age until his teens. Nicky had spent the majority of his life worried that he was simply a disappointment to his father.    
  
His therapists over the years would try to remind him that sometimes even adults don’t know how to deal with grief:  _ ‘people can only meet us where they are at themselves’ _ . And though Nicky could emphasize that his lack of speaking likely only encouraged Lucio to withdraw even more into his work, he was also reminded to _ ‘honor his pain’ _ . He could feel sorry for his Dad,  _ and _ still acknowledge his own hurt. Both could coexist on a tight tether that he was doing his best not to break. 

In the end, Nicky decided he wouldn’t mention the plants to his Dad, nor would he reach out to him today. They never did anything in the past to commemorate the day together, and he couldn’t imagine him wanting to start now.

  
Felicia hopped onto the bed, moving around his arm, encouraging him to scoop her into his arms. He absentmindedly scratched at her head, and began to hum his mom’s favorite song,  _ ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ _ . She especially loved the Hawaiian version, and one of Nicky’s speech therapists encouraged him to practice the  _ ‘ooo’s’ _ at the beginning to help him with the stutter he had formed when he first started talking again.

He sometimes still found himself singing it on a bad anxiety day, reminding himself he was doing okay if he could at least manage the beginning notes. Usually, by the time he finished the song, he’d feel a bit better. This time, when he started, it sounded a little shaky, but he swiped at the tear, and breathed through it.    
  
As hard as he thought the day would be today, he was so grateful for the kindness that Joe had done for him. He could already imagine Nile’s teasing comments once she arrived, that maybe it was time to admit that Joe was not  _ ‘just staff’ _ , but Nicky merely snuggled Felicia closer, and closed his eyes.    
  
Whatever he was, staff, friend, something more, Nicky was thankful for him having made a hard day a little less painful.

* * *

  
  
_ Meanwhile . . . _

Joe barely managed to make it to their room, locking the door with trembling hands, and finally exhaled a stuttering breath.   
  
He had managed to push it down as long as he could, but now the grief pulled him down like a vortex. So sudden, and twisting, it made his head spin. He pressed away from the door, but his feet felt heavy, and just walking to the bed took real effort. He had only taken two painful steps when the anger churned at his insides. It rippled up into his chest, clenching around his heart, and his knees felt weak.    
  
Joe knew there was no point in fighting against the current anymore. He crumbled down towards the floor, landing on his knees, and blindly reached for his bed as his vision blurred. When he felt the edge of the blanket, he hurriedly clung onto it, fisting the fabric so tightly his hand hurt, “A-Ana asif. Ana a-asif.”   
  
He hoped the apology would still the suffocating rage, but it only made room for the sob to pour out of his throat, and he clenched his jaw tight. Raising his other hand to his chest, he dipped his fingers under the hem and clutched at the tattoo on his pec. He pressed the palm of his hand against the inked skin so hard it hurt, as if he could actually hold onto the ghost of his memories. 

A horribly familiar regret seared through him, but also guilt - over a stupid flower of all things. But could he really do it? Could he even allow the little flower to sit on his back porch. To look at it every day, and wonder why it got to thrive when - . . .  _ ‘ana asif.’ _   
  
Joe’s forehead was pressed firmly against the edge of the bed, but he slowly opened his eyes, trying to move past this horrible pain. His blurry vision spotted the corner of his sketch pad underneath the bed, and he slowly lowered his shaky hand to reach for it. It took some effort, but once he was able to pull it out, he unclenched his other hand from the blanket.    
  
He hurriedly grabbed the pencil from the binding, and though he could barely make out the shapes he was sketching, he began outlining the scene that haunted him even decades later. Why he thought it would help this time, when it never did before, he couldn’t reason. But a kind of fervor would sweep over him, as if he could expunge the imprint on his soul. Could somehow transfer it onto paper, and he’d finally have some peace. 

After it had flowed out of him, when it was finally done, Joe sank further down onto the floor. It didn’t help, it wouldn’t help, nothing would. His watery eyes scanned over the image, of the ocean and the crowd. But no drawing could capture the panic, or the screams. Those were still trapped inside his mind, and the rage swelled once again . . . until he reached for the paper, ripping it within his shaky hands. Over and over again, until they were scattered fragments falling around his knees, and onto the floor. 

_ ‘Ana asif.’ _

  
  


* * *

_ June 26th - Thursday  _

_ Community Center _

_ Mid Afternoon  _

The day before had been interesting, in that neither Joe nor Nicky really spoke about Tuesday, or their grief. Instead, Nicky handled any last minute things that Tom had emailed about, before taking most of the afternoon to swim and chat with Joe about the new books he had bought over the weekend.    
  
It was a calm, almost uneventful day, and Nicky greatly appreciated it. 

Because Thursday caused more anxiety than he had expected.    
  
He had woken up feeling nervous, and it didn’t help that for some reason he couldn’t find his toothbrush when he finally did talk himself out of bed. He must have spent a good five minutes looking all over the bathroom, and even considered that maybe Felicia had chewed on it and dragged it to the floor. Nicky settled on some mouthwash, grabbed two strips of gum, and tried to breathe around his frustration as he closed his eyes. He had to remind himself of all the work that had gone into this. Not just his, but also Tom, the board, and even Joe and Booker’s efforts.   
  
He needed to trust that he had done everything he could have to make sure this fundraiser would go off without a hitch. He pushed away from the sink, rubbed his hands over his face, and went searching for Mia to ask if she had a new toothbrush he could use.

_ But now . . . _ as Nicky watched the event winding down, he felt infinitely better. He had chewed through a whole pack of gum during it, but managed to keep his hands from stimming, or his legs from bumping, so he considered that progress. Of course the sheer amount of people filtering in and out of the parking lot were mostly a positive distraction, and he wasn’t even that uncomfortable as he passed out the sample menus that Joe had helped him design.   
  
His favorite part had been hearing the positive feedback from the curious families. They were looking forward to the program, and registered for some tentative cooking classes, before asking about certain local dishes. Nicky made sure to take down notes of the suggestions, happy to adjust the menu to things they might like more.    
  
But his least favorite part was the actual fundraising. He knew that was the goal of the event, and he was downright relieved that Tom was the one talking with several local business representatives over the specifics. Yet it was hard to avoid the large banner near the information table that marked down every donation. And the more time that had passed, the more nervous he got with the visual reminder that there was still a gap in their goal. 

His constant shifting eyes must have become obvious, because Joe stepped away from handing out balloons to the kids, and walked over to him, “What’s wrong?”   
  
Nicky stuffed his hands in his pockets, slightly worried they might look fidgety as he explained, “We haven’t reached the goal yet, and I keep being distracted by that board.” He tipped his chin over at it, and Joe glanced in the direction, “I know I need to focus on the event, and really it’s okay if we don’t meet it today - “   
  
Before he could finish, Joe stepped away and Nicky was utterly confused as he watched him walk over to Tom. He whispered something at him, and Tom glanced over at Nicky who hurriedly looked away,  _ ‘because what?’  _ When he finally found the courage to peek back he saw Tom take the board down and place it behind the table. Nicky realized Joe must have asked him, too, and by the time he was making his way back over to him, he bit his bottom lip trying to contain the broad smile, “You - you didn’t have to do that.”   
  
But Joe just shrugged like it was no big deal.

But it was to Nicky. 

Some more families had just pulled up, and Joe proclaimed  _ ‘duty calls’ _ , before heading over to the car with the balloons. And Nicky took a moment to watch Joe in his element: helpful, charming, and friendly as he greeted every stranger with a lopsided grin. But he was just as great behind the scenes, not just with the cold calls he had made the week before, or with the menu design. He had also helped lug most of the tables into place with Nicky and Tom before the event started.    
  
Nicky would have liked to believe he partially did it for him. But he also wondered if Joe was just that kind of person,  _ ‘helpful to a fault’ _ . When Joe looked back at him, and their eyes locked, Nicky didn’t look away. He decided he was going to offer to cook him dinner that night. He’d call it a  _ ‘thank you’ _ , and Joe would likely remind him to only do it if he wanted to,  _ ‘no strings attached’ _ \- and he’d be honest. He would admit that he  _ wanted _ to make him dinner.    
  
And if Joe wanted to consider it a date, then Nicky was happy to call it that, too. 

“Hello, Nicolò.”   
  
Nicky’s eyes widened, and he turned around to see his Dad standing nearby. He hadn’t told him about the fundraiser, or the job,  _ or _ the food program, so what exactly he was doing here was a mystery. He honestly was so surprised that he hadn’t even managed to greet him back, before Lucio took a step closer and glanced around the parking lot. Even though they had several business owners swing by, his own father stood out easily with his pin striped suit, and shiny black shoes, “This is nice.”   
  
Nicky blinked back at him, willing himself to say  _ anything _ , “What are you - what are you doing here?”   
  
His Dad stared for a moment, but his face was indiscernible, “Mia mentioned this and I wanted to see it for myself.”   
  
_ ‘Oh, of course, right’ _ . . . Nicky glanced away, then back, “Did you want to check out the information booth?”   
  
Lucio raised his hands, gesturing between them, “No, thank you, I already did.” He paused, seemingly taking in Nicky’s hesitant stance, “Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?”   
  
Nicky glanced down with a shrug, refusing to answer. There were far too many answers to that question, and none of them felt appropriate to discuss in a parking lot. This was not the father - son moment for either of them, and he allowed the silence to linger between them, before he heard his Dad take a step closer.   
  
“I think you’re doing something really good here, Nicolò.”   
  
Nicky was stunned for a moment, before he raised his eyes up at him, “Thank you -” It was all he could muster, and he shifted nervously from one foot to the other. He wondered if it would ever  _ not _ feel awkward to talk to his father.   
  
“I unfortunately can’t stay,” Lucio informed him, “But, maybe you could tell me more about it this weekend?”   
  
Though still a bit unsure, it was a start, and Nicky nodded in silent agreement. His Dad gave him a reassuring smile, and then stepped away without saying anything else. Nicky watched him head to the car that Derek was standing beside, holding the back door open, before his Dad climbed in. Even though Derek waved over to him, Nicky was still processing their exchange and could barely raise his own hand to do the same.

After they drove off, Nicky must have stood there for more than a minute before he felt Joe stand by his side, “It’s nice that your Dad came.”   
  
He preferred to dismiss it so he didn’t get his hopes up, but he felt comfortable enough in the moment to admit to Joe that  _ ‘it was a pleasant surprise.’ _ _   
_   
After they finished cleaning up, Tom took out the donation board, and showed Nicky that they had met their goal _ ‘and then some’ _ . He clasped his hand over his mouth, trying not to cry in relief. But Joe only chuckled, claiming it was all the  _ ‘free balloons’ _ , while Tom winked over at Nicky and congratulated him. 

* * *

_ Meanwhile . . .  _

  
Derek was gripping the steering wheel and glancing back at Lucio in the rear view mirror.

He had basically snuck Lucio out of the house, not letting any of the DEA agents know, and he was itching to get them back before anyone noticed. As the material witness, Lucio had agreed to specific instructions on where he was going to go, and his whereabouts were supposed to be known at all times. Derek was taking a big risk with his own job by taking a protected material witness, without proper prior authorization, out of the home.    
  
Lucio had asked for daily reports of his son, and Derek had been giving them but ever since Saturday, he requested them from Mia instead. That morning, when she had informed about the event, Lucio said he wanted to go. But there was not enough time to secure the clearance, and the DEA agents nixed the idea. In a way, maybe falsely, Derek hoped helping him with this would make things better. But that didn’t mean he was any less nervous, “I still don’t think this was the best idea.”   
  
The goal had always been to keep Nicky in the dark, and have other people watching over him. The more degrees of separation there were between Lucio and him, the safer he’d be. But now that he had learned that Nicky was no better off, and that it was possibly in relation to the  _ very people sworn to keep him safe _ , he had become even more withdrawn. Withdrawn,  _ and _ angry, “You lost the privilege of telling me what you think is best, and expecting me to listen to it.”   
  
Derek could feel the irritation building, but he didn’t say anything. Lucio was right, and he was still sorry. He kept driving, and Lucio stared out the window, “Nicolò didn’t even tell me about this - and who could blame him. I’ve spent so much time and energy keeping him safe based on  _ your _ plans, that instead he thinks I’m completely disinterested in his life.”   
  
“Wait,” Derek’s eyes shot up to the rear view mirror, “you’re going to try to blame  _ me _ for that?”   
  
Lucio practically grumbled, “ _ You _ said it was best if he didn’t know of any of this - “   
  
_ ‘Nope’ _ , Derek set the blinker and pulled the car over. When it was parked, he turned his upper body back, hand resting on the seat in front of Lucio, who was refusing to even look at him, “ _ You _ were barely talking to him way before I showed up. Don’t try to put that all on me.” Lucio’s hands tightened over his knees, but he didn’t say anything, and Derek tried to explain,  _ again _ , “Look, I - I should have told you about Joe saving Nicky, and about Keane.  _ That _ is on me.” Then he pointed out a truth that he knew might hurt, but it needed to be said, “But Lou, you had issues with Nicky way before I ever came around. Don’t go projecting it all on me.”   
  
When he wouldn’t even give him the courtesy of looking back at him, Derek turned around in frustration, and rubbed the back of his neck trying to release some of the tension. Just before he was about to pull the car back onto the road, he heard Lucio’s gruff voice mutter a quick,  _ ‘sorry’ _ , like it was almost hard to say. 

He knew they needed to talk about this more, but Derek really  _ did _ need to get him back before their absence was noticed. He responded with a mumbled,  _ ‘thank you’ _ , and picked up the speed.   
  
A few minutes later, when Derek had parked the car in the staff parking lot, he went to get the door for Lucio, “Are you going to tell Nicky that you were the one who donated the remainder they needed for the program?”   
  
“No,” was his curt reply, before he stepped out of the car.    
  
Derek was confused by that, closing the door behind him, “Why not?”   
  
Lucio fiddled with his tie, pretending to straighten it, but it was more of a nervous habit, “He already thinks I try to buy things instead of talking to him - “   
  
Derek smirked back at him, “Don’t you?”   
  
Lucio shot him a cold stare, “ _ Watch it _ .”   
  
“Yes, sir,” he replied with a smile, before stepping around him to open the door to the staff wing. Even though he was trying to hide it, he caught Lucio grinning, and Derek hoped things would be better after today.

* * *

_ Di Genova Property  _

_ Joe and Booker’s Room _

_ Dinnertime _

“Is that what you’re wearing for the date?”   
  
Joe looked down at himself, and then towards Booker on the top bunk, “It’s not a date?”   
  
Booker raised his hand above him, counting out his reasoning on his fingers, “I’m not invited - and had to take half the shift off?  _ It’s a date _ .”   
  
“It’s not,” Joe huffed, and shoved his phone in his back pocket. He was desperately trying not to read into Nicky’s offer after the event of ‘wanting to cook’ him dinner, but Booker’s observations weren’t helping.    
  
“You literally took a shower, trimmed your beard, and are wearing cologne,” he glanced over at him, a coy smile tugging at his lips, “ _ and _ you’re wearing the shirt someone said your chest looked good in once.” Then he resettled on the pillow, closing his eyes and raising his arms behind his head, “It’s a  _ date _ .”   
  
Joe scoffed, “He said ‘it’s just dinner.’”   
  
“Hm, I’m supposed to report for my shift at ten now,” Booker rolled onto his side, facing away from Joe, “so if something changes, put a sock on the staff door.”   
  
Joe muttered under his breath, “I  _ will _ throw something at you.”

But Booker was still chuckling, as Joe closed the door behind him. 

He had been surprised when Nicky offered to make him dinner tonight, even more so when he assured Joe that it wasn’t just a  _ ‘thank you’ _ , but that he  _ wanted _ to. Though still, he refused to carry any expectations into the gesture. They simply spent so much time together, that maybe this was nothing more than Nicky trying to get to know him better in a different setting. 

Yet when he walked through the staff doors, and saw Nicky standing in the kitchen, it was hard not to admit how much he wanted this. It was a struggle to act casual when all he wanted to do was walk up behind Nicky, and wrap his arms around his waist. To dip his head against his shoulder, and trail soft kisses along the column of his neck. His hands itched for that touch, and he curled them till the fingernails pressed into the palms, in order to keep himself from reaching out.   
  
Though Nicky didn’t help anything when he looked back over at him, two plates already dished out in each hand, and gave him one of those big, dazzling smiles he usually reserved for Nile, “You’re right on time.”    
  
Joe took a moment to respond, his eyes fixed on those soft pink lips, “Punctual - and hungry.”   
  
Nicky cheerfully walked around the island, and towards the table that Joe had somehow not even noticed was now covered in a soft blue cotton tablecloth with several lit candles in the middle. His eyes widened at the sight . . .  _ fuck, is this a date? _ He could  _ never _ tell Booker, he would never hear the end of it. 

Nicky placed the plates down, taking a seat, and looked back over at Joe, “Gonna eat standing?”   
  
“Mm, no,” Joe shook his head, and walked over to take a seat, trying to shake any remnants of surprise away.  _ Whatever _ this was, he wanted to enjoy it and be present for it. But when Nicky reached down by his chair and lifted up a bottle of wine, Joe covered his glass with his hand, “None for me, thank you.”   
  
“Joe, you’re not working right now,” Nicky smiled, “you can have  _ one _ glass.”   
  
Joe smiled, “It’s not that -”   
  
Nicky lowered the bottle, slightly confused, “Is it Booker? Like, you don’t want to go back to the room with alcohol on your breath?”   
  
“Oh no, he’d be okay with that,” Joe lightly scratched the back of his head, trying not to sound bashful about it. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed, but it did feel weird to bring it up within this context, “I’m uh, Muslim, and I don’t drink alcohol.”   
  
Nicky sounded surprised, “What? I didn’t know that.”   
  
“I don’t really broadcast it, because - “ he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, “well I’m terrible at it, my Mom’s on my case plenty. But I guess some things stick in a cultural sense?”   
  
Nicky lowered the wine bottle back beside his chair, giving him a light grin, “My Mom was Catholic, and though I’m barely agnostic, I can understand what you mean.” When he straightened in his chair, Nicky leaned forward on his elbows, tilting his head towards Joe, “So, do you do the dietary restrictions? I’m not familiar with them, sorry -  _ oh shoot _ ,” he looked down at the dishes, “can you eat  _ this _ ?”   
  
Joe teased him with a smirk, “ _ Yes _ , I can eat vegetarian pasta.”    
  
Nicky looked downright relieved, and though Joe didn’t mind explaining what he tended to abstain from, he was surprised by Nicky’s sudden confession, “I sort of feel bad now, like maybe I should have a do over and make you something from Tunisia. A taste of home.”   
  
He sounded so sincere about it, but just in case he thought he messed things up, Joe picked up the fork and started cutting the large pieces of pasta, “That’s sweet of you, but _ this _ is really perfect Nicky.” Before he took his first bite, he looked over at him, curious, “Besides, have you made a Tunisian dish before?”   
  
Nicky ran his top teeth over his bottom lip, trying not to smile, “Actually, _ no _ .”   
  
Joe looked down, laughing heartily.  _ Of course _ Nicky would offer to learn how to make something he never had before, just to try this again. And then a thought struck him, an idea, and he voiced it out loud, even though he kept his head down, “ _ So _ , what if I stay around for the weekend, off the clock - and we make it together?”    
  
They had been tip toeing around each other for a month now. So much had happened already, but in a way, nothing had. Nicky was still a client, Joe was still his bodyguard, and it was a delicate balance.  _ But _ he had managed to make it one third of the way through his contract,  _ and _ maybe he could indulge these dinners.  _ ‘And then when the contract is done . . .’ _

“I’d really like that,” Nicky lifted his glass to his mouth, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect by taking a sip first. When he placed it back between his hands, he offered in an almost casual tone, “I could go to the market tomorrow and pick up some things?”   
  
Joe kept his chin close to his chest, smiling and relieved that Nicky wanted to make plans already. But he recalled something, a meeting Derek asked to have with the rest of TOG tomorrow. Something about Copley and Keane, though the liaison didn’t elaborate, “I have a security meeting with Derek and the team tomorrow, but after that I can take you?”   
  
“No worries, I’ll ask Nile,” he easily countered, “and that way you can be surprised by what dish we’ll make?”   
  
Nicky gave him such a warm smile, that it took Joe a moment to remember to reply, “At least let me pick you up? Text me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you?”   
  
He agreed, then pointed to the dish, “You should eat before it gets cold.”   
  
“Alright, alright,” he laughed lightly, but when he finally did he closed his eyes, because  _ ‘fuck, that’s delicious’ _ . When he groaned, and said as much, Nicky bit his lower lip and admitted he made the noodles from hand, which was downright impressive to Joe who tended to muck up instant food in a microwave. He had never put much stock in the saying that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but the thought of Nicky making more incredible dishes like this for him in the near future, did cause a sort of flutter in his chest.    
  
They fell into casual conversation after that. Nibbling on a few bites at a time, and talking about the foods Joe liked, and abstained from. And about their moms, who they joked had lived out their faiths much better than their sons ever did. And though Joe was determined not to allow too much to happen before the contract was over, the thought of getting to sit with Nicky off the clock, having dinner and chatting like this, made that goal easier to bear.

Unfortunately, neither noticed the man around the corner. Hidden in the shadows of the hallway, and pressing off the wall to walk away. He realized he would need to speed up his plan . . . and tomorrow might be the chance to seize the opportunity.

* * *

_ June 27th - Friday _

_ Downtown Market _

_ Late Afternoon _

“Nicky, I’ve never seen you cook for a guy before.”

Nile had her arm looped around Nicky’s as they both left the market, and he noticed the sky getting darker with rain clouds forming. There hadn’t been any mention of a storm, but with the summer heat it didn’t tend to stick long anyways. Nicky was holding the bag with halal meat he had just purchased, and some extra ingredients, “I did last night.” 

They were currently standing near the curb, because she was going to have to head out sooner than planned, but now she pulled back a little, surprised, “What? And you’re doing it again today?”   
  
“Well, together,” Nicky corrected, trying not to let it seem like a big deal.   
  
“I’m happy for you,” Nile pressed closer, resting her head on his shoulder.   
  
“Nile, it’s nothing,” he tried to deny, “it’s just - Joe’s nice, that’s all.”   
  
Nile raised her chin to his arm, giving him a playful scoff, “Don’t Nicky, you and I both know that this is way more serious than you just being ‘nice to a nice guy’.”   
  
Nicky clutched the bag harder, but didn’t look away from her, “I don’t really do serious.”   
  
She merely encouraged him all the more, “I think you should try with him.”   
  
He huffed around a smile, and took note of the thunder that boomed miles away, “That should really scare me, but -”   
  
“But what?” Nile urged him on.   
  
“I kinda like the idea of seeing what could happen next,” there was another sound of thunder clapping, louder this time, and he wondered if he should move them inside.    
  
Nile squeezed his arm tighter, but spoke gently, “You should tell him that.”   
  
“He’s so professional, Nile,” Nicky easily dismissed the idea, “I don’t think he’d even consider it until the contract is over, like, in two months.”   
  
Nile merely chirped, with a teasing smile, “And until then, you’ll keep making the man Tunisian dishes in your kitchen?”   
  
He chuckled, because she wasn’t wrong, “Something like that.”   
  
There was a moment of silence, before Nile sighed and shared what was really on her mind, “Maybe I’m being selfish here, and just trying to feel less guilty about leaving you behind for a year.”   
  
She had been all too happy to go with him to the market, but had taken the opportunity to let him know that she had been offered a position - by Andy, to join TOG Security. Nile had hesitated to tell him, worried that he would crumble by the news, but he could think of nothing better for her. Of course he would miss her next month when she went for the month long training session, but this was his chance to return the support she had given him numerous times over, “You’re not leaving me behind, you’re pursuing a great opportunity.” Then he tried to make light of the situation, so neither of them would end up crying on the sidewalk, “And we’ll talk every day you aren’t recovering in an ice bath.”   
  
“Ha, I think I can hold my own,  _ thank you very much _ ,” she instantly retorted, before leaning back against him, “And I guess I would like to know you’re happy while I’m away.”   
  
Nicky curled his arm up, reaching for her hand, “Don’t worry about me so much. I’m not made of glass.”   
  
“I know, I know,” she pulled back, realizing she needed to get going, but offering him a ride home anyways. 

Unfortunately, it would have been out of her way,  _ and _ made her late, so Nicky squeezed her hand before letting go, “Thank you, but no. I think I’ll just wait for Joe, I’ll text him he can come get me.”   
  
They gave each other a long hug before Nicky watched her walk around the building towards her car. He tried not to think of her being gone for a little while longer, and shifted his focus to his phone in his back pocket. He sent Joe a quick text, letting him know where he was and that he was ready to get picked up whenever he could find the time, but  _ ‘no rush’ _ . If anything, he could always head inside if the storm moved closer, and browse around the market for extra spices.   
  
He was still waiting on a nearby bench ten minutes later, when one of the black SUV’s from his house pulled up near the curb. He was already walking over to it, but froze when the tinted window was lowered, “Hey, Nicky.”   
  
Nicky instantly tensed, “Keane? What are you doing here?”   
  
“Joe, couldn’t make it,” he shrugged casually, “they’re still in that meeting. I can get you home.”   
  
Nicky wondered why Keane wouldn’t be included in a security meeting. Even if he wasn’t around at nights, he had lingered around the property plenty during the day. Merrick was supposed to be arriving next week, and Nicky had assumed that was why there was this big security meeting in the first place. 

His fingers flexed against the bag, and he could feel his heart pumping faster already. Yes, he was uncomfortable around Keane, but he hated how tense his body felt under his stare.    
  
_ ‘I don’t want you to dismiss a warning signal next time’,  _ Joe’s words echoed through his mind.  __ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘Joe, practically everything gives my nerves a warning signal.’ _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘Not all are meant to be ignored.’ _

Nicky considered the possibility that Keane might be offended by not accepting his offer, but he hoped it wouldn’t go as bad as he feared. He tried to make his voice sound less shaky, but no such luck, “I can - I can just call an Uber, thanks.”   
  
“Sorry, Dad’s orders,” Keane immediately replied, “I’m supposed to bring you straight to him.”   
  
_ ‘Oh,’ _ Nicky tucked his chin close to his chest. That was right, his Dad had hoped to talk with him on the weekend about the fundraiser, and the food program. Maybe he had some time now, and wanted to chat with him before he got busy again? 

Besides, if his Dad sent Keane of all people to get him, then it must be important. Though if neither Joe, nor Booker were available, then he also hoped nothing went wrong with the meeting. Usually Andy, Quynh and Lykon would be arriving around this time, too. Maybe they had joined the meeting, too? Maybe that was why they couldn’t pick him up either?   
  
Whatever the reason, Nicky figured he’d simply have to push the discomfort aside for the twenty minute ride home, and looked down, “Sure, alright.”    
  
Nicky climbed into the backseat, hearing the thunder much closer now, as he closed the car door. He was glad he had packed his head phones, so the songs could help distract him, and hopefully drown out any potential conversation Keane had hoped to have with him. He put his phone on  _ ‘do not disturb’ _ , save for the media, and covered his ears. Keane and him hadn’t talked since a week ago, but even now he could see his dark eyes in the rear view mirror glancing back at him.   
  
He ignored it, starting the music and looked out the window. It was raining now, and he watched thick drops of rain splatter against the window as Keane pulled out into the street. He didn’t realize Joe, and Nile, were urgently calling him several times. Didn’t see their text messages either.    
  
Nicky closed his eyes, counting down the minutes till he would be home.

Unaware that he wouldn't see it again for a long time.

* * *

  
**NOTES:** I am sooooooo sorry T_____________________T  
  
. . . oof, next week? Brace yourselves, it's a tough one. Called "The Interlude - Part One" and will take place over the course of one, traumatic, day.   
  
But basically this chapter? It included the _last_ bits of pieces/background/hints/clues that we had been spending *checks notes* almost 80k words to build up. WHEW thank you guys for sticking with it this long, and we promise that starting with the next chapter, we will begin to strip away the layers and offer some answers with each passing chapter <3 


	8. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coda, a reset, an interlude - that will reveal the costs of secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WAIT!! Don't scroll down yet** \- we got a crap ton of trigger warnings (TW/CW/Squicks) to share for this chapter, so our readers can make an informed decision if they want to read this one or not. **These are not spoiler free:**
> 
> _We have violence, blood, anxiety/some disassociation, intense angst, fight scenes, bodily injury (a _lot_ of bodily injury), degrading talk, abuse, mention of traumatic mutism from Nicky's past, no flashbacks - but Keane will admit to non consensual non penetrative sexual abuse on *minor* Nicky (ages 15 to 17), Keane will also do a non con act of non penetrative sexual assault in this chapter that involves both forcing Nicky to perform fellatio on a gun for a minute, and try to force Nicky to perform fellatio on him. When he pulls away, Keane's dick will make contact with his cheek._

* * *

_“Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind.” - Cassandra Clare_

* * *

_Di Genova Property_

_Late Afternoon_

  
  


Joe stretched his arms behind his back, before cupping the back of his neck with his hands. 

The meeting had taken longer than expected, and he was more than ready to step away from the bench seat he was sharing with Booker. His roommate was still in casual conversation with Derek, but Joe had all the information he needed. When the liaison mentioned Copley’s inquiry about the _‘necessity of Nicky’s security’_ , Joe was understandably concerned. But when Lucio’s business partner was questioned about it, and admitted it came from Keane, not even the DEA agents were going to take the request seriously.   
  
When Derek had told him as much, Keane tried to challenge the decision, but he countered that if it was such a big deal _‘have Merrick reach out to Lucio about it’_. He never called though, and it only proved Joe’s theory: that Keane wasn’t working for Merrick, as much as he was trying to get to Nicky.

 _‘Over my dead body’_ , Joe had smirked to himself.

But it was a moot point. No matter how much Keane wanted it to happen, they weren’t going anywhere. Even better, Merrick was arriving next week, and when he left, he’d be taking Keane with him.

Of course, there was still the double agent to worry about. Someone had tried to hit Nicky with a car, likely as some sort of warning to Lucio. But that was before TOG were hired, and outside of Keane’s deplorable actions, which seemed to be independent of the investigation, their presence seemed to be enough of a deterrent from a second attempt. 

Andy glanced over at Joe, interrupting his thoughts, “Nicky is out of the house right now?”   
  
“Yeah, he’s with Nile, at the market,” _‘trying to surprise me’_ , Joe thought, but really didn’t want to hear their teasing remarks about it, “big, public, space.”   
  
Andy tipped her head, then looked at everyone at the table, “I think just to play it safe, no more outings unless one of us can go with him?”

“I can already head over there,” Joe began to step over the bench, “I was planning on picking him up anyway.”   
  
Andy, Quynh, and Lykon got up as well, sharing they were going to grab some dinner, before he got back with Nicky. Joe hadn’t yet mentioned that he was staying the weekend yet, or that Nicky and him planned to spend the evening in the kitchen cooking dinner together. Well, more like Nicky cooking, while Joe watched. But he figured he could share all that when they got back. He could already imagine their jokes, and teasing remarks, though he hoped they’d save them for when Nicky wasn’t nearby. 

Booker and Joe had just made it to their room, and he grabbed his wallet and the extra keys for the SUV. He debated changing into something more relaxed, but technically he was still on shift. Joe shoved them in his pocket, scanning the room for anything else he might need, when Booker pulled out his go bag from the corner, “I’m gonna take a quick nap, then head to the apartment tonight still.”  
  
Joe was surprised, since he had seemed to have enjoyed the previous weekend, “You didn’t want to stay again?”   
  
“Hey, I like Nicky,” he pulled out some headphones, and a sleep mask, already climbing onto the top bunk, “but I’d rather lounge in my own bed if I’m not getting overtime pay.”

“Fair,” he chuckled, before heading for the door.  
  
“But enjoy your weekend with your man.”

Joe paused mid step, and looked behind him, “What?”  
  
Booker was already rolled onto his side, his back to Joe, though he heard the smile in his voice, “You heard me.”

He rolled his eyes around a playful huff, but otherwise ignored him.  
And headed for the staff parking garage.

Joe’s conditions to the agreement of the surprise was that Nicky had to tell him exactly where he was going, leave his phone on at all times, and promise not to give him the slip like he _‘had done to other bodyguards in the past’_. He gave him a wink with that last bit, and Nicky agreed easily enough. But Nile, who had come to pick Nicky up earlier, joked Joe was being worse than a parent. 

Once inside the SUV, Joe double checked that he had everything: water, gum, charger for Nicky’s phone, then plugged in the address for the market. According to the GPS it would take about eighteen minutes to get there, and he pulled out onto the road. Not long after, the car’s bluetooth alerted him to a text message from none other than Nicky. He pressed the button on the wheel to hear the automated voice read it to him:  
  
 _‘Hi Joe. Done and ready to get picked up anytime. But please don’t rush. Looks like it will rain soon. Drive safe.’_

Joe was still a good fifteen minutes away, and considered pulling over to let him know that, but reasoned it wasn’t that long of a wait. Besides, it would probably pass quickly for them, while Nile and him chatted. 

By the time Joe pulled up the curb near the main entrance, the storm had started, and the windshield wipers were going at full speed. He didn’t see Nicky, or Nile, anywhere, but figuring they were simply seeking shelter inside, he reached for his phone and texted Nicky he was outside. He was fairly certain he’d text him back quickly, but after a minute turned into a few, he wondered if his notifications were silenced. Maybe a call would go through. When he reached his voicemail, Joe left a quick message. 

When he still hadn’t replied after another minute, Joe wondered what was going on. Nicky always had his phone on him, and it was unusual for him not to respond to both a text, _and_ a call. He decided to try Nile next.   
  
She picked up on the second ring, “Hey Joe, what’s up?”   
  
He peeked over at the wide double doors of the market entrance, “Nothing, I was just letting you two know I’m here.”   
  
“Oh, I’m not at the market - “   
  
“What?”   
  
“Yeah, I had to leave like half an hour ago,” Joe felt an immediate sense of dread twist at his core, “but Nicky said he was texting you to come get him?”   
  
“You -,” the feeling rippled upwards, and gave his words an edge of irritation, “you left Nicky alone?”   
  
Nile seemed downright confused on the other line, “Uh, yes? Why?”   
  
“He’s not supposed to be on his own,” he mumbled more to himself, than her, “If you couldn’t have stayed with him, you should have called me.”   
  
“Joe - are you like, angry with me? Because I’m sure Nicky is just inside, it’s ok.”   
  
His fingers tightened around the phone, “It’s _not_ okay - shit, I need to go.”   
  
“Joe, wait -”   
  
He hung up, and turned off the car to jog towards the small building across the cement courtyard. The rain was heavy, and his shoulders were practically damp when he made it inside. The interior wasn’t that large, and most of the booths were tables. It was easy enough to see across the way, and as he scanned over the space, a sudden jolt of panic slammed into him when he realized Nicky was definitely _not_ there. He hurriedly checked the bathrooms in the corner next, but every stall was empty, and Joe lifted his hands into his hair, tightening his fingers into the short strands until his scalp hurt.   
  
Something was wrong. He knew it. He _felt_ it. 

His phone rang again, but even before he reached for it, he somehow knew it wasn’t going to be Nicky. 

“Joe, he’s not answering my calls either, what’s going on?” Nile implored him to explain, but he didn’t have time to. Where to even begin about Lucio, and who Derek _really_ was, and _shit_ \- was this a kidnapping? 

Eventually, he’d apologize for his tone with her, for being so curt, but he desperately needed to reach Booker. She barely had the chance to say that she was rushing over to Nicky’s, before he hung up on her again.

Joe headed back to the car quickly, already dialing Booker. When he finally answered, he sounded groggy like Joe had woken him up from the nap he had hoped to take, “Joe?”  
  
“I need you to run the GPS on Nicky’s phone,” he was turning on the car, ready to go, he just needed a direction.   
  
“ _Pardon_ ?” his voice sounded muffled, like his mouth was barely turned away from the pillow.   
  
It only stoked Joe’s frustration, “Sebastien, _fucking do it_ .”   
  
He could hear him shifting on the bed, likely reaching for the device in his go bag nearby, “What’s going on?”   
  
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the words passing through gritted teeth, “Nile had to leave, Nicky was by himself, and now I can’t find him at the market.”   
  
“Maybe he took an Uber, Joe,” Booker tried to assure him, “let’s not panic yet.”   
  
He had no time for platitudes, “Run the _fucking_ GPS.”   
  
“I fucking _am_ \- _hold on_ ,” Booker typed on the keyboard, and Joe closed his eyes tight trying to remember to breathe. He was going to have to explain to Nicky later why he even had access to the GPS on his phone, and why his father _allowed_ them to have it. He didn’t know how he was going to take that. But frankly, Nicky could yell at him all night, so long he was standing in front of Joe, _safe_ , he wouldn’t care. He just needed him back.   
  
“Okay, he’s moving, so guessing a car -”

“Heading home?” he didn’t even know why he asked. He already knew that there was no way Nicky would have ordered an Uber after asking Joe to get him.   
  
“No,” Joe watched his knuckles turn white, as he gripped the wheel harder, “Further away.”   
  
Joe squeezed his phone so hard, he was surprised the screen didn't crack. Nicky’s phone _was_ on, but he was not answering, _and_ he was being driven _away_ from his home. Something was horribly wrong, and Booker knew it now, too, “Joe?”   
  
“Direction,” he barely managed to spit out around his clenched jaw.   
  
“Northwest of you. Go down Chestnut Boulevard, towards the highway.”   
  
He only gave a quick glance behind him, before making a sharp turn onto the road. The phone had automatically connected to the bluetooth system, and he could hear Booker talking to him over the car system, but his singular focus was eating up the miles between him and the car Nicky was in, “When did you last hear from him?”   
  
He swerved around a car, before getting back into the lane, “I got a text about half an hour ago.”   
  
He could hear Booker typing on the attached keyboard, likely already looking up Joe’s GPS signal as well. Once he had it, he told him the car was about _‘twenty minutes ahead’_ of him, “Tell me when it stops.”   
  
“Joe, maybe he just wanted to get something somewhere else, this might not be anything -”   
  
He knew what Booker was trying to do, and any other time he’d appreciate it, but no, he knew Nicky better than that, “He would not let multiple calls from me and Nile go unanswered.”   
  
“The car took a turn -”   
  
“Where?” Joe had just gotten on the highway.   
  
The way Booker didn’t immediately reply told Joe he was hesitating for a _reason_. And even with bracing himself for it, his words felt like they slammed against him, “The warehouse district off of 7th.” 

The _empty_ warehouse district. Rows and rows of factories that had been shut down for more than a decade. Perfect place if you wanted to take someone without prying eyes. Booker’s voice sounded low, “I’ll call the others, I’m already heading to the car, just - just hold on -”   
  
The line went on hold, likely while Booker went to call Andy.   
  
The rain pummeled down on the car, and Joe thought of Nicky’s last text, _‘Drive safe.’_

But he was far too desperate to reach him, and he picked up speed on the highway.   
  


* * *

Nicky had fallen asleep between the music, and the rain. But stirred awake, when he felt Keane pulling off the highway. He looked outside, passed the heavy rain, and realized they had headed out of the city, though on the opposite end of where he lived. He couldn’t imagine what for, and lowered the headphones around his neck, “Keane, why are we going this way?”  
  
Keane didn’t answer as he turned into a large warehouse area, and drove over to the building closest to the gate. Half the high windows were broken, and weeds grew out between the gravel stones. Nicky was thoroughly confused, lifting his headphones over his head, and placing them down beside him, “Why are we here?”

He parked the car near the large steel door, and turned off the engine. But he kept his eyes forward, his voice monotone as he answered, “You’re Dad told me to bring you to him.”  
  
Nicky couldn’t even begin to fathom that, “Here? Why?”   
  
“Does it matter?” Keane snapped, and Nicky jolted at the harsh tone, unsure why he’d be so irritated. “He told me to get you,” he opened the driver’s side door, and Nicky felt his body go rigid at Keane’s cold demeanor, “So let’s go.”   
  
“But - ” this was weird, it didn’t make any sense, and he tried to hurriedly ask Keane before he stepped out, “you said my Dad told you to bring me home, why are we _here_?”

Keane slammed the door shut, and Nicky jostled from the loud noise. His shoulders felt tense, his hands curled over his knees, and he didn’t know why Keane seemed so frustrated. When he swung open his door, he stared at Nicky with his jaw clenched tightly for a moment, then grumbled, “Let’s go.”  
  
His chest felt tight, his legs tense, and the _last_ thing he wanted to do was get out of the car, “Wh-What’s going on?”

“ _Nothing’s_ going on,” Keane fumed, “ _let’s go_.”

The way Keane glared at him made his whole body go rigid, and he wasn’t sure if he could have gotten out of the car even if he had wanted to. Nicky knew there was a chance that he was misreading this, maybe even making a mistake by thinking something was wrong. But this felt uncomfortable and he reached for his phone beside him, “I - I’m calling my Dad.” 

Suddenly he felt Keane’s rough hands grabbing him by the shirt. His fingers dug into his side, and Nicky winced from the clutching grip, “St- Stop!”  
  
Keane ignored it, and harshly pulled Nicky towards him.

He dropped the phone on the car floor as he was dragged out of the backseat.

* * *

_‘What did I miss?’_ he veered into another lane, barely avoiding the car just behind him.

 _‘Everything’_ , his mind taunted back. 

The car at the beginning was bad enough, but it was only a week ago, with Keane’s behavior at the club that seemed to have warranted the security detail for Nicky. As protective as he felt for him, Joe’s feelings had skewed his work. He was so distracted looking _at_ the man, that he had managed to miss the clues going on _around_ him. 

And as he filtered through the memories of the last month, he began to see a pattern emerge. 

Like how uncomfortable Nicky was around Keane. How he had avoided him, even before the club. Nicky had mentioned that he was a ‘little weird’ and Joe now wished he would have asked him about it. He had wondered if it was related to something in the past, and possibly even sexually inappropriate. But he had been so certain he could keep Keane away from him, that Joe didn’t want to possibly bring up hard memories for Nicky.   
  
Even with Keane no longer spending nights, Nicky seemed to want more time with the team as a whole. At first Joe thought Nicky offering to host movie nights, and cook for them multiple times was just him being kind, but now he wondered if he wanted to be near them because he still felt uneasy with Keane’s presence at the house during the day? Did he think, even just subconsciously, that there was safety in numbers? And who could blame him, Joe had made the same stupid, fucking, _mistake_ by allowing Nicky to leave the house with Nile.   
  
Because he had gotten too comfortable, instead of doing his _job._

And Nicky was suffering the consequences. 

Keane had also tried to get rid of Joe and the team, and at first he figured it was some sort of ego thing. A punishment for demanding he keep his distance from Nicky, and kicking him out of the house at nights. But now, a very real probability dawned on him.   
  
This wasn’t about Merrick, or to intimidate Lucio from testifying. 

This was just about Keane wanting to get Nicky alone. 

Because he was a ‘little weird’, vile man, who was obsessed with Nicky. And now he had him. 

He knew it before he even heard Andy’s voice filter through the bluetooth, “Joe?” 

He could barely think straight, “Did the car stop yet?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
He knew that tone. That serious, no bullshit, tone, “Send me the coordinates - “   
  
“We’re ten minutes behind you - just wait,” she didn’t even try to make it sound like an order. There was no point. He wouldn’t have listened to it anyway.   
  
“Don’t you _dare_ try to tell me to wait,” Andy was silent, she must have put it together, too, “You already checked didn’t you? Keane’s not at the house is he?”   
  
“No,” her confirmation felt like it seared into his chest, “he left an hour ago, and Derek can’t reach him either.”   
  
“I missed it Andy, I missed the _fucking_ signs.”   
  
“Joe, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Derek’s with us, and we did call the police in case -" _‘it’s a kidnapping’_ . He knew that she was likely just covering all her bases by having Derek tag along as well. But no kidnapper would have left Nicky’s phone to be traced, and they would have likely already tried contacting Lucio.   
  
“This has nothing to do with Merrick, this is _Keane_ ,” at least she didn’t argue with him this time, and he stared ahead at the slippery road, “Send me the coordinates.”   
  
“I already did.”

He pressed the button on the wheel and ended the call. They tried calling back of course, but he refused to answer. They knew where he was going, they would catch up eventually.  
  
He tapped on the coordinates, and drove faster.

He was still a good fifteen minutes away.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicky had his arms wrapped around his torso, hugging himself, as Keane shoved him further into the old, empty, factory. He wished he understood what was going on, where everybody - anybody - else was. But his repetitive questions had only made Keane more frustrated, and he had pushed him hard after closing the steel door. 

Even with the busted out windows near the fifty feet ceilings, there was barely any light, and the further they stepped into it, the darker the space got. He was able to make out one, old, wooden chair in the middle of a large set of rusty metal poles, that were spaced every twenty feet apart. 

He couldn’t possibly fathom why he was there, but when he turned around, to ask Keane what was happening, the man pulled out a gun from his pants pocket, and lowered it at his side. Nicky’s eyes darted between the weapon, Keane, and back at the gun, wondering why he felt the need to even _have_ one, “I - I want to leave.”   
  
Keane raised the hand holding it, and pointed over at the chair, “ _Sit_ .”   
  
“N-no,” Nicky muttered, “You don’t - you don’t have to do this.” He didn’t know what exactly Keane had planned, but it couldn’t _possibly_ be anything less than nefarious.   
  
“Move, _now_ ,” Keane impatiently demanded, and Nicky felt his body startle in response. 

He knew he should try to keep it together, try to think of how he could get away, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that. He turned towards the chair about ten feet away, trying to buy time by walking slowly, “Why are you doing this?”  
  
Keane slammed his hand between his shoulder blades, making him stumble forward, and he barely caught the wooden arm to keep him from falling, “ _Because_ I’m going to finally get that ass you’ve been giving away so easily to everyone else.”   
  
_‘Wait, what?’_ Nicky wasn’t sure if it was the words, or the anxiety, but his shoulders shook as a nervous laugh tumbled out of him, “You can’t be serious, this is why I’m here, becau-” 

He had just turned his face to look back, when Keane backhanded him so hard it busted his bottom lip, leaving a bloody gash. Nicky’s head flung to the side from the impact, and he whimpered at the sudden spike of pain. He could taste the thin trail of blood pooling just within his mouth, and his eyes filled with tears. He tried to say something, but it stung too much in the moment. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Keane’s thick fingers grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pushed him roughly into the chair, “Do _not_ laugh again.”

Nicky could feel Keane moving in front of him, but he kept his eyes down, resisting the urge to raise his hand to the gash on his lip. He was afraid to make any sort of jittery movements with his shaky hands, and instead gripped the wooden arms of the chair, trying to keep the tremble at bay. When Keane took a step forward, Nicky instinctively pressed his thighs together, trying to keep him back, which only seemed to amuse him, “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you close your legs to a dick.”

Keane’s taunts meant nothing to him. He had tried to appeal to his humanity, tried to tell him he didn’t have to do this, but Nicky was quickly realizing there was no point in trying to reason with the vile creature in front of him. Keane only seemed to get off on it, and he was determined not to cave, not to beg, or even cry if he could help it. He had made one obvious mistake in his assessment of Nicky. That just because he was kind, that it meant he was soft, too. That he would cower easily under his horrible taunts.

When Keane pulled his knees apart, and stepped between them to _keep_ them open, Nicky leaned back further against the chair, but otherwise remained silent. He wasn’t going to plead with him, he refused to, “I knew a slut wouldn’t fight too hard.” 

It wasn’t until Keane lifted the tip of the gun under his chin, that Nicky sucked in a sharp breath in surprise at the cold metal barrel pressed firmly against his skin, “Eyes up pretty boy . . .”

He pushed the gun up, forcing Nicky’s head to tilt back slowly. He thought back to Joe's comment, how Booker had suggested the codename _‘IcePrince’_ for him. Because if he ever wanted to, his cold stare could speak volumes. So when their eyes locked, Nicky said with his eyes, what he couldn’t just yet with his mouth: _‘fuck you.’_

Keane narrowed his dark eyes down at him, “I don’t know why you’re trying to play tough now, when you’re such a pussy in every other way.”

The pain in his lip was fading into an ache, and if he spoke carefully, he might be able to avoid tearing the skin more. There was a good chance he would hit him again for the words, but Nicky said it anyway, “Call me whatever - but I’m not the one who needs a gun to get what I want.”

Keane’s nostrils flared, and he raised the gun away from his chin, before _slamming_ it across his cheek. He had done it so quickly that Nicky hadn't even had a chance to brace himself. Ironically, had Keane not been standing between his legs to hold him in place, he might have just fallen out of the chair from the force of the hit. His hands curled against the arms of the chair, as the blood pooled just under his cheekbone. It had hurt far worse than the split on his lip, and he felt like he saw spots dancing under his eye lids. Half of his face seared with white hot pain.

Nicky was hunched forward a little, breathing hard through his nose, and tasting _more_ blood in his mouth. He had bitten his tongue on the impact, and tried to swallow it, worried that Keane might be satisfied to see how much damage he caused. The man crouched down onto the balls of his feet, forcing his face into Nicky’s bleary vision, and tilted his head as if he was inspecting him, “I have only had a taste of you, and now you’re gonna finish what you started.”   
  
Nicky’s temples were pulsating, causing a rush of blood to muffle his words. He wasn’t even sure if he heard right, and when he only gave him a confused look, Keane began to maneuver his knees apart again. He tried fighting against the move, but it was a weak effort at best with the way his temples throbbed.

"Coming to Merrick’s, and just working your way through the help," Keane’s free hand glided over his knee, and Nicky jerked against the touch, “Yet you didn’t with me. And I had to settle for what I could get."  
  
Nicky recoiled further into the chair, his back pressed so hard against it, that his shoulder blades felt like they were being scratched by the splinters of the rough wood backing, “Wh-Wh- . . .” He tried to speak, but the hot pain in his face burned when he tried, and he realized he was starting to stutter. Not the anxiety kind, but the one he had endured for years because of trauma. And he hated that his brain was shutting off like this. 

Keane ignored it, widening his thighs further apart, “I had to wait till after you kicked them out of your room.” He raised his other hand, the one holding the gun, over the edge of his knee, “And then let myself imagine what it would feel like with you one day.” He closed his eyes, as if recalling a cherished memory, “The best orgasms of my life were cumming on your bare skin.”  
  
Nicky flexed his fingers in disgust, his hands trembled against the wood, and he looked away. The last time he was at Merrick’s place was when he was seventeen. The first time, when he was fifteen. How many times had Keane snuck into his room at night? How many times had he watched him? Back then he tended to tell his lovers they could cum on his ass, or back if they wanted to, and then worried about the clean up later. How many times had he scrubbed Keane’s cum off of himself the next day?   
  
“It wasn’t as good a week ago, but your shirt sufficed.”   
  
Nicky’s eyes shot back to him, and he began to piece it together. His missing shirt, and how Keane had made some sort of suggestive move on him at the club. But was he saying he had snuck into his room that night as well? Using his shirt to - _Nile_ . Had he _done_ something to Nile? It was horrifying enough to think about what he had done to _him_ . The thought of Nile caught in the crosshairs, that he could have . . .   
  
“And where was that bodyguard of yours then, huh?”

The tears blurred his vision, lacing through his eye lashes as he blinked in surprise. First Nile, now Joe. Who else would Keane try to hurt to get to him? _‘No, enough’_ , it was one thing if he refused to crumble for himself, but he could plead for them, “Leave th-them out of - out of this.” Keane’s face hardened at his words, and he used the only thing he thought might work, “Do- hurt me, not - no-not them.”   
  
Keane lowered his gaze towards his groin, and Nicky wished he could slink away, but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped in this horrible moment, “Is that what you think I want, to _hurt_ you?” He glided the barrel along his inner thigh, and Nicky froze, unable to even take a breath, “No, Nicky, I want to have _fun_ with you.”   
  
The adrenaline that his body had been flooded with was now running on empty, and the throbbing, aching pain had been the only thing that kept him grounded. But with the way his heart had been pumping since he was dragged out of the car, and what was possibly _about_ to happen, he began to fall back into his own mind. He felt so horribly exhausted, or maybe he was going into shock. His eyes felt heavy, and he retreated further into himself. 

Keane’s hand rushed forward and his clammy fingers wrapped around his throat. 

Nicky barely winced in response, “Don’t pass out yet.” 

Keane’s abrasive voice cut through some of his muffled senses, and Nicky glanced down, trying to avoid his face. He watched his trembling hand curve around the edge of the chair arm, wishing he could rip it off, and slam it against Keane, “We’re just getting started.”

He shoved Nicky, his back slamming into the chair, and he held onto the arms tighter, while Keane stood up between his legs, “Let’s do a practice round.”  
  
Nicky shook his head, eyes cast down towards his shaky knees, but Keane lifted the gun in between them, “Play along, or else I tie you up and make a pit stop at your house with this.”   
  
Was Keane really that dumb, with all the security? Then again, who knew if anybody realized Nicky was even missing yet? Or that it was _because_ of Keane. Surely Joe had figured out by now that he wasn’t at the market, but still - Keane _could_ likely go to his house, and just walk up to someone, and - _‘no’_ , he couldn’t take the risk, he’d have to play along.   
  
He wouldn’t look at him, but agreed silently, his body too tired and sore to use words.   
  
Keane shoved his fingers through his hair, fisting several chunks, before tipping his head back forcefully. It hurt, but nowhere nearly as bad as his cheek. When he blinked around the cloudy sheen in his eyes, he saw Keane holding the gun close to his bloody lips, “ _Suck_ .”   
  
He was a fucking psycho, but Nicky couldn’t take the risk of being restrained, out of his _mind_ with worry, while Keane went back to his home. He parted his mouth, and a little bit of saliva, coated with blood, dribbled over his bottom lip. He tried to swallow it, but Keane shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth before he could, and Nicky instantly felt the pain of the metal slide scraping against the roof of his mouth. _‘More blood’_ .   
  
The pain in his face intensified, his cheek felt hot, his lip bruised, his mouth coating the barrel with his own blood. And _still_ , Keane wanted more. He flicked his wrist, twisting the barrel of the gun, trying to push it in further, “Open wider if you want to keep those pretty teeth from chipping.” 

Nicky tried to shake his head _‘no’_ , but between the grip in his hair, and the gun in his mouth he couldn’t. The taste of the metal, and the cleaning oils made his eyes sting even more than the pain, and he began to choke against the invasion. Keane mocked him with a cruel, taunting, laugh, “I know you don’t have a gag reflex, bitch.”   
  
His watery eyes glared up at him: _‘a gun going down your throat is different than a dick, asshole.’_

His defiant look made Keane pause, before he twisted his mouth into a devious smirk, “Time for the real thing.”  
  
Keane released the tight hold on his hair, and pulled the gun out callously, scratching the inside of his cheek this time. Nicky gagged, and the trail of saliva and blood that had connected him to the gun, broke before it splattered onto his shirt. 

Keane still held the gun in his hands, but was balancing it within his grip, and unbuckling his belt. 

His whole body tensed, horrified, “No-no- n-nno - “ _‘I didn’t agree to that, no.’_

It was no use, even with the sudden rush of panic, his face hurt, his body hurt. 

His mind was shutting off, he couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Who knew what else Keane had planned, or what he was going to do after. But Nicky had always been a fast runner, even if Keane managed a shot, maybe he could still make it to the car - at the very least to his phone. With his hands occupied undoing his pants, it could be the only opportunity he would have.   
  
Nicky’s head was spinning, his vision still filled with dots floating in front of his eyes, but he knew where the door was. He had to try.   
  
He moved fast - 

But Keane was faster.  
  
One hard, brutal blow to his stomach that made him double over with a breathless heave. He grabbed onto Keane’s side, trying to stay upright, and his knees buckled. He struggled for air, trying to swallow thick gulps of it, as his upper body trembled. When he was finally able to, he began to cough, and the last remnants of blood fell onto the cement floor.

Keane grabbed him by the throat, and flung him back into the chair.

  
  


* * *

The rain was nothing more than a drizzle now, and Joe could see the warehouse district coming into view near the hill, just past the bridge.   


He swerved onto the exit ramp, the tires spinning for a moment over the wet puddles, but he managed to turn into the pull, and steered it straight again. When he finally pulled up the gates, he saw the same kind of SUV he was driving - with the back door open. It wasn’t a good sign.  
  
There was no guarantee Nicky would even be there. Keane could have easily had a car already waiting, and simply left Nicky’s phone behind. Joe hoped he wasn’t smart enough to have done that, but there were rows of factories, and thousands of square feet to cover. But he’d start with the one the car was parked close to. 

He knew he’d be no good to Nicky dead if he charged in without protection. So he parked the car and rushed over to the trunk. Even though he was certain it was only Keane, he reached for the locked box he kept under the fire blanket, just in case. He grabbed the bullet proof vest, making quick work of clipping it into place, and put on the tactical hard knuckle gloves. Finally, he unlocked the box with his assigned gun, holstering it on his side.   
  
When he walked past the car Keane had used, Joe spotted Nicky’s phone on the floor.   
And the bag of food he had picked up at the market.   
  
He had only been alone because of him. This was his fault. And Keane’s.

Whatever happened next, Joe was going to be the one to fix it.  
  


* * *

He had never been in this much pain.   
  
It hurt to cough, it hurt to breathe, and his tears felt hot against his cheek.

He had tried so hard not to let Keane see him upset, not to let him think he could break him this easily. But his throat burned, his mouth tasted terrible, and his very core trembled both from the pain of the punch, and the fear of what was about to happen next. He wanted to hold his stomach, wrap his arms around himself, but they were so shaky they needed to clutch the chair arms again in order to stay upright. 

Nicky barely felt it when his hair was being tugged on again. A few hairs being pulled from his scalp was mediocre in comparison with the pain searing through his body. He wheezed as Keane tilted his head back, but his glossy eyes widened when he saw that Keane had finally put his gun away . . . only to free his hand to wrap around his dick instead. Nicky clamped his mouth closed, his split lip throbbing in protest, and his right cheek sending a new wave of stinging pain at his clenched jaw.   
  
He tried to twist his head away, but Keane only bucked forward.   
  
Nicky closed his eyes tightly, feeling the tears spilling out of the corners, as he whimpered in protest. In his mind he was crying, begging, _screaming_ for him to stop, but no words would come out. Instead he felt Keane’s cockhead _dragging_ over his wounded cheek, aiming for the corner of his mouth.   
  
He tried to focus on anything else. The feel of the wood of the chair, the sounds of the rain drops against the metal roof. _Anything_ to help him not think of what was about to happen.   
  
Then he heard the sounds of heavy boots approaching quickly. 

  
  


* * *

The building was fairly dark, and Joe couldn’t see what was on the other side. But the lack of other cars, or noise, did imply there wasn’t a group of people within. Yet when his eyes adjusted to the space, he could make out Keane standing twenty feet away. He couldn’t see Nicky’s face, but he saw the way his body shifted uncomfortably in a chair in front of him.   
  
The sounds of his whimper, made the floor tilt underneath him. 

And without another thought, he allowed the rage to pulse through his veins, as he curled his hands into fists.   
  
When Keane realized he was charging up behind him, the fucker actually had the _audacity_ to pull back nervously as he was tucking his _dick_ back into his pants, “It’s not what it looks like.”  
  
Joe never broke his stride, and without saying a word, he raised his arm, and sucker punched him across his jaw. It was a knockout punch, and Keane’s head made a cracking sound as he flung backwards. His own weight made him stumble, before he landed hard on the floor, with a crunch. Good, Joe hoped he broke something. He coughed, spitting out blood as he rocked onto his side, but Joe knew he’d be down for a moment.   
  
And he turned to go to Nicky.  
But froze at the sight of him.  
  
His head was down, but Joe saw the blood on his shirt, saw the pink cheek with the gash under his cheekbone. The split lip where his mouth was clamped shut, blood seeping out of the corner. His knees were drawn close together, his legs trembled, and hands were clutching the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were white. But even so they still shook.   
  
He didn’t look up at him.   
And he understood why.

This was his fault.  
  
And Keane’s . . . who wheezed out a groan as he started to get up.   
  
Joe barrelled over to him, and though Keane had lifted his hands as if willing to surrender, that wasn’t an option he was going to give him. He hurt Nicky, _‘and fuck knows what else’_ \- and when Joe brought his right arm down he _hoped_ Keane felt _every_ ounce of the steel inside his gloves.   
  
Keane managed to raise his arms in front of his face to take the brunt of the force, before striking back. He gave an upper cut towards his ribs, likely aiming for a kidney shot, but the vest helped absorb some of the blow. Joe sidestepped, easily averting the second swing.   
  
Keane was sluggish, likely still recovering from Joe’s initial blow. With him bleeding from his mouth, and his pupils dilated, It wouldn’t be a fair fight. But Joe wasn’t going to stop till Keane was on the ground.   
  
Joe lunged forward, his own movements much more controlled. And he slammed a right hook towards his ear to disorient him. Keane stumbled back awkwardly, before Joe caught him by the shirt. He should just let him fall, let him crack his head open on the floor and bleed out. But that would be too easy. He deserved to feel some pain first.   
  
Keane reached for Joe’s arm, trying to loosen his unrelenting grip, his fingernails scratching at his forearm. He snarled at the pain, but the adrenaline helped, and he jerked up his left knee to kick him between the legs. When Keane hurled forward, Joe stepped out of the way, letting him fall forward. His elbows took the brunt of the fall, before he collapsed onto his side, reaching for the space between his legs.   
  
Joe glared down at him. Watched as the sweat beaded on his forehead, as the blood leaked out of his ears, and his face contorted in pain.   
  
And still, it wasn’t enough.   
The rage was still there. 

Joe stepped over him, thinking of how scared Nicky must have been, of what he had done to him before he had arrived. Keane was a bully, a pervert, and he wasn’t going to stop. 

He sank down onto his knees, knocking the wind out of Keane’s lungs and pinning his arms at his side with the weight of his own body. He tried to slink out from underneath him, and when that didn’t work, he pulled his knees up to press on the flat of his boots. He tried to lift him off, but Joe was unmovable.  
  
Far too calmly, he leaned forward, and wrapped his hands around Keane’s neck.   
  
The fear in his eyes as he stared up at Joe only encouraged him to keep going. He wanted him to die with fear. Wanted him to pay for what he did. He pressed his fingers so tightly around him he was surprised the windpipe didn’t shatter underneath his digging thumbs.

His face turned pink first, but the color was already draining from his face.

He stopped kicking his legs behind him, slumping down against the floor as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. But even though his mouth went slack, he could still feel Keane’s pulse thumping. He just needed a little more time.  
  
“Stop, _mon ami_ .”   
  
He could see Booker’s hands reaching for his own, but Keane was still alive, and Joe couldn’t let go. Couldn’t stop. _‘Not yet’_ .   
  
“ _Yusuf_ ,” he tried to pull his hands away, but Joe pushed his shoulder hard against him, and Booker fell back stunned. Or so he assumed. His stare was _fixed_ on Keane’s beady eyes, and his slowing pulse. _‘It won’t take much longer’._   
  
“It’s _done_ ,” Andy came at him from the other side, but unlike Booker’s gentle coaxing, she shoved her weight into his side, “Dammit, he’s out cold, _stop_ !”   
  
He felt like a teenager again, when his mother tried to pull him off a bully, and all he could think back then . . . was what he grimly said now through gritted teeth, “No, _let me_ .” _‘Let me kill him’_ .   
  
Booker’s hands curled under his right arm, but Joe locked his arms tight. It took Andy curling her hands under his other arm, and both of them using their full strength, to finally pull him back. Still, he was uncompromising, his fingers tight around Keane’s neck, _dragging_ his limp body up with him - until Andy slapped him across the face _hard_ .   
  
He finally let go, Keane falling back with a loud crunch, and the three of them backwards into a pile.   
  
He uncurled his fists so he could sit up, huffing out shallow breaths, as the adrenaline began to recede. He watched Booker bind Keane’s limp wrists together with zip ties, while Andy kneeled beside him, already setting up her first aid kit to work on him. He knew he owed Booker an apology for shoving him, knew he should explain to them both where his rage really came from. They knew about his street fighting days, but it wasn’t like he was choking people back then.   
  
But neither looked at him.

Because really they already knew why.   
  
He looked over towards Nicky, a good twenty feet away, still in that chair, flanked by Derek, Quynh and Lykon.   
  
Now that the anger had passed, he was left with the guilt.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Nicky - ” _‘Quynh’_ .   
It was Quynh’s voice.   
  
His eyes were still firmly shut.   
  
He had heard the horrible fight playing out beside him. 

And a part of his mind did register that it was Joe.   
  
The sounds were horrible though. Grunts, groans, scuffles and punches. And every single one made Nicky wonder if he was next. 

If the pain he was already feeling was only going to get _worse_ .   
  
“Nicky, it’s Quynh,” _‘I know’_ , “Derek, and Lykon, are here, too.” 

_‘Why?’_ _  
_ _‘Why - why did this happen?’_

 _‘Why him -’_   
  
“What hurts the most, we’ll try to help you,” Lykon offered, “Can you point to it?”

A hand reached for his arm, and he jerked, startled by the sudden contact. 

He could feel it lower away, and he slowly opened his eyes, to see Quynh’s fingers leave his frame of sight.

“Dammit, he’s out cold, _stop_!”

Andy’s voice. Irritated, _‘no. Angry’_. 

He couldn’t handle anymore anger.

He closed his eyes again.

The blood pulsating around his ears was deafening, he just needed everyone to be quiet for a moment. He felt so lightheaded.

“The cops are here,” _‘Derek’_ , if he was here, was his Dad here, too? 

He opened his eyes, finally trying to take them in.

But he didn’t see his Dad. Only their painful expressions as he lifted his face towards them.  
The way Quynh winced in empathy at his wounded face told him what he already felt. 

It was worse than he could admit to in the moment.   
  
  


* * *

  
  


Andy crouched beside Joe, giving him a stern look, “Nicky needs you.”  
  
She was right, he had needed him, and he wasn’t there for him. This happened _because_ of him. Andy shoved his shoulder, _hard_ , “Now is not the time to wallow, asshole.”   
  
Six police officers filtered in, hands on their holstered guns as they stepped into the building two by two. Everyone - but Keane who was still passed out, and Nicky, who was still gripping his chair and staring at the floor - raised their hands as they approached. 

Things moved quickly enough when they identified themselves, and Derek showed his badge. The liaison led most of the discussion, while one of the police officers radioed for the EMT that it was _‘safe to approach the scene’_.

 _‘The scene’,_ Joe was sitting in a _crime_ scene.   
  
Another officer walked over to Keane, checking his pulse, “Which one did this?”   
  
Joe glared at Keane’s limp body, “Me.”

He dared anyone to suggest he shouldn’t have, but no one said anything else. 

And Joe realized that that was likely because of Derek. He needed to talk to him, explain that this wasn’t related to Merrick, but Andy put a hand on his forearm, shaking her head. Joe trusted her, even if she couldn’t explain in front of the cops. Maybe Derek and her had come up with something on the way. A look passed between them and he spoke in Arabic, hoping the police officer couldn’t understand, “ _‘Do I tell him the truth when I give my statement?’_ ”

“‘ _You tell him he hurt Nicky, and you hurt him. That’s it.’_ ”   
  
He wasn’t so sure about it, but nodded in agreement.   
  
When the officer walked over to take his statement, he stood up, and Andy remained by his side. She didn’t interject, didn’t say anything, but could likely feel the fresh swell of anger rolling over his tense shoulders as he explained what had happened.   
  
When he was done, he glanced over at Nicky, still flanked by the others, but now a second EMT and officer stood in front of him. The medic took pictures with a camera, while the officer filled out his initial statement form. Joe understood the basic procedure of what they were doing here, keeping the witnesses separated to ensure an uninfluenced report, but he _needed_ to get to Nicky.   
  
He needed to know he was okay.

* * *

Nicky had silently consented when the EMT asked if they could take pictures, but because of the darkness of the room, the flash felt extra blinding against his eyes. He closed them tightly, and Quynh asked if she could hold his hand. This time, knowing what to expect, he nodded _‘yes’_ , and felt her warm fingers glide over his knuckles. It helped a little, and he curved his hand around hers.

“We need to know what happened so we can properly charge him.”  
  
But Nicky shook his head, he couldn’t talk yet, he couldn’t speak - the pain in his face, the pain in his mind, he needed more time. Needed somewhere quiet. Needed to understand _why_ .   
  
When the camera stopped, he wearily opened his eyes, and saw Derek step up beside the officer, “Nicky, we can exchange information with everyone, you can give your statement later, there’s enough here to make an arrest. You don’t have to talk.”   
  
Quynh squeezed his hand, “Did Keane - did Keane do something inappropriate as well?”   
  
_‘What does it matter?’_   
He just wanted to forget about it.   
  
“Please, let us know.”   
  
He shook his head, not wanting to lie - but still, he couldn’t talk about it. 

Not yet, maybe when he gave his statement later.  
  
“Is he declining a kit?” the EMT addressed the officer first, but looked around at the others as well for confirmation.

“For now,” Derek answered for him, and Nicky was relieved not to be asked any more questions. He was exhausted.   
  
The officer shook Derek’s hand, and explained that Nicky could leave at any time if he signed the form declining medical attention on sight. Quynh held it over his lap, and he shakily signed his name on the bottom.   
  
He felt bad for them making such a fuss over him.   
He was okay, he was going to be okay.   
_‘I just need an aspirin, a quiet room, something.’_

When he started to rise to his feet, his head felt like it was spinning. He paused for a moment, trying to make sure he didn’t tip over, and suddenly felt both Quynh and Lykon reaching for him. This time he didn’t jolt at the touch, he didn’t deny their help to keep him upright, it felt safe, “Nicky, I’m going to take you in my car, and we’ll drive around a bit while we wait for Joe to give his statement.”  
  
Nicky froze at Quynh’s suggestion, and finally his brain allowed a word to tumble out of his mouth, “ _J-Joe -_ ”   
  
Quynh squeezed his arm, “Joe should be done soon, and he’ll be right behind us.”   
  
_‘No, I don’t want to leave without Joe’_. 

With how badly he felt, he didn’t know how much he could really get across verbally. 

But he needed to tell him he was sorry for getting in the car with Keane. 

For him possibly being in trouble for hurting Keane. He was so terribly sorry. 

When Lykon and Quynh encouraged him to walk, Nicky remained firmly in place.

He refused to take another step, not without Joe, “No- _no_ -”   
  


* * *

Two EMT’s had lifted a semi-conscious Keane onto the gurney, and had just rolled him out of the building. An officer followed behind, while his partner was taking Andy’s statement. 

And while he did trust Derek and Andy that they were working _something_ out, Joe knew he wouldn’t be able to leave yet. He was possibly facing charges here, and even if he was put in front of a sympathetic judge who knew all the facts, Joe was likely going to be dealing with some heavy consequences. His only hope was that Keane might go in front of a judge first, and be found guilty, so his lawyers could work out a better defense for him for why he had tried to kill Keane.

Because he _had_ tried to.

And worse, he did not feel sorry about it.

He knew the weight of a soul being on you.   
The stain it left behind. And even with all that - he would have killed Keane.   
  
When he glanced over at Nicky, he was relieved when he saw him standing at least. Wedged between Quynh and Lykon. But as he watched them trying to get him to walk, and he refused, Joe got concerned. He kept his gaze locked across the way, even though he was addressing the officer beside him, “I need to talk to him.”   
  
“That’s fine,” the officer looked up from his clipboard, “we got both your statements. Just don’t leave yet.”   
  
He figured as much, though he hoped it wouldn’t be that much longer.   
He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Nicky. Where he could even begin.   
  
When Quynh saw him approaching, she got Lykon’s attention, and they pulled back, while Joe stepped in front of him, “Nicky - ”

Nicky raised his head slowly, and Joe had an up close view to see the horrifying things Keane had done. Even with the EMT cleaning his face, and using a butterfly bandage for the cut on his cheek, Nicky looked worn. Most of his right cheek was a deep pink color, and he’d likely need some after care to help keep the swelling down. His bottom lip had a deep split, and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, before closing it again.  
  
But it was his bright eyes, filled with hurt, and tears, that made Joe almost crumble before him. 

He wanted to beg his forgiveness, he wanted to trade places with him. He wanted to take away the pain and hurt _he_ had caused. And he had no idea where to even start.   
  
They looked at each other, but neither spoke.   
Not until Lykon pointed out that Nicky didn’t want to leave.   
  
Joe couldn’t stand the thought of Nicky staying in this dirty, awful place.   
Filled with regret, he stared down at him, “You need to go.”   
  
Nicky instantly shook his head _‘no’._   
  


* * *

The clouds were gone now, the sun filtered through the open door just behind Joe. 

It was bright, and warm. But everything felt wrong.

Joe stepped closer, and if he just opened his arms Nicky would gladly fall into them.  
He was so terribly sorry, and desperate to feel safe again.

How many more tears was his body going to make him shed?

 _‘Please don’t make me leave,’_ Nicky wanted to say, but _couldn’t_.

He closed his eyes . . . before he felt Joe’s hand gliding over his pale, left cheek. A deep sense of relief washed over him, and when he blinked his eyes open at him, a tear escaped. It rolled down towards Joe’s fingers, and he swiped his thumb against it. The feel of his skin on him made him feel cherished, and Nicky leaned into that touch, relishing it.

“Please, Nicky,” Joe’s voice sounded so sullen, “get in the car.”  
  
If he was okay to touch him like this, maybe Joe wasn’t mad at him?   
Didn’t resent him for having to help him with Keane?

Maybe they could talk soon. 

That same deep, worry line was etched between his brow, and Nicky hated that he was the cause of it this time. If leaving now helped Joe in any way, he’d do it. When he nodded, Joe glanced behind him, over at Quynh, and then at Andy, who had stepped up beside her.

Joe lowered his hand down, and Nicky wanted to reach for it.  
Instead, Quynh and Andy moved next to him, guiding him to their car outside.   
  
Joe was right behind him, and he could feel his eyes watching him every step of the way.   
The ambulances were gone, but there were four police cars parked at various angles around the SUV Keane had driven. Someone was taking pictures of the inside, and Nicky observed for a moment as Andy grabbed the backdoor for him. 

Quynh climbed in first, then Nicky, while Andy walked around the car to drive.   
But Joe stood there silently, his hand holding the metal frame tightly, staring down at him.   
There was so much to say, _‘so much -’_

But when Andy started the car, Joe slowly closed the door, and she began to drive forward.  
Nicky looked behind him, out of the back window, and watched as Joe faded from his view.   
  
Neither broke eye contact, until Andy rounded the corner onto the street.

* * *

**NOTES:** **T___________________________________________T**

 **Me:** "Is - . . . Is everyone okay? Do you need a hug? Some tissue??"  
 **Reader:** "I - WAIT wait _wait_ . . . how is Nicky rescued already? We have the false start from Ch.1 still right? The one that takes place in week ten?"  
 **Me** : _*rustles notes*_ "Yup."  
 **Reader:** "Wh-What??"  
 **Me:** "We never said there was only going to be one traumatic event." _*sips tea*_

 **NEXT WEEK:** Nicky learns the truth . . . and that everyone he cares about has been lying to him.  
And we learn who the double agent is - _and_ we'll have a bit of a reset, where the next chapter is titled, "Day One" _*waves arms mysteriously as I leave the scene*_


	9. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed, and things get a reset . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments on the previous chapter! I was sooooo nervous because it's the darkest stuff I've ever written, and angsty, and action packed, and I just wasn't even sureee ~ and then y'all really gave me such lovely feedback and I really appreciate it <3
> 
> This is officially now the fic at the top of everything in my stats (bookmarks, subs, hits, kudos, comments, _everything_ ) I cannot begin to tell you all how thankful Luz and I are, that this fic is resonating with you guys - and I promise we will lean into the comfort portion of that "hurt/comfort" tag starting today!
> 
> Truths will be revealed, and things have to be processed. But we will be unpacking things for a few _chapters_ so though angsty in the emotional sense as they process things - we promise not to pull the rug out from ya for a bit ;)
> 
> BUT FIRST - Day One, a reset!

* * *

**_“You had me at a point where I would have left the entire world behind for you.” - Unknown_ **

* * *

  
  
  


_Two Hours Earlier_

_Di Genova Property_

Booker had jogged from the staff wing, down the long hallway, and straight towards Lucio’s office. Even though he knew Andy, Quynh and Lykon had already turned back, and would be there any moment, there was no time to waste. He clutched the device between his hands, watched Nicky and Joe’s signals blip along the map on the screen, but now raised his eyes to the two guards who were blocking him from going any further, “ _Hey_ , what’s the rush?”

He didn’t have time for this, “I need to see Lucio, _now_ .”   
  
One of them explained he was in a meeting with Copley, and Derek, but Booker could care less, and easily maneuvered around them. The other guard quickly grabbed him by the arm, but he managed to twist out of the hold, and got a few steps closer before they _both_ grabbed him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”   
  
Booker ignored their question, and yelled for Lucio. His voice echoed down the sleek, empty hallway, and only a minute later, Derek swung the office door open, “Booker? What’s going on?” The liaison saw the way the guards were holding him back, and ordered them to _‘let him go.’_   
  
When they did, Booker hurriedly made his way into the office, and Derek gave him a worried look, before he closed the door behind him. He spotted Lucio at his desk, and Copley sitting across from him . . . and he wished he didn’t have to tell him the horrible news, “It’s Nicky.”

Lucio’s eyes widened at the news, and then a kind of sadness clouded his features. He wished he could walk him through it gently, but time was of the essence. Booker explained about Nicky missing from the market, and how Nile had left before Joe showed up. How he was now tracing both their phones, but they were moving away from the house. Lucio’s mouth opened, and he solemnly asked, “Is this a kidnapping?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Derek replied, “Why would they leave his phone on?”   
  
Lucio stepped around his desk, a shaky hand gliding along the edge to keep himself propped up, “But you’re tracing it, right now?”   
  
“Yes, right here,” Booker held out the device to show him, pointing out which one was Nicky’s, and which one was Joe’s. 

Derek walked over to look at the screen as well, “And it’s moving away from here?”  
  
Booker nodded, and Lucio sank further against his desk, eyes cast downward. He couldn’t even imagine what the man was feeling. Derek stared at him, and quietly suggested they do a head count of everyone in the house, to see if _‘anyone was missing’_. 

The three of them agreed, before Copley’s hesitant voice cut in, “You’ll find Keane missing.”  
  
Booker looked around Lucio’s shoulders, “How - how do you know that?”   
  
Copley shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “He asked me where - where Nicky was earlier.”   
  
“And you _told_ him?” Derek took a step away from Lucio, who was still facing Booker, and looking angrier by the second.   
  
“I - I didn’t know he was planning on picking him up, or doing - “   
  
“The man told you last week to get _rid_ of his security, and today wants you to tell him where Nicky is?” Derek fumed, “And you didn't think that was _maybe_ linked?”

Booker knew that the man didn’t know about what had happened at the club, but Derek brought up good points, why had he told Keane where Nicky was? When Copley seemed to only grow more nervous under their stares, _and_ began to stammer incoherently, Derek demanded to know what _else_ he had been talking to Keane about.

“I - I didn’t,” he gestured with his hands, trying to explain, “he just, sometimes reached out with questions Merrick had, and I -”  
  
“You _fed_ Merrick intel when Keane called you?” Derek exclaimed, “My God, Copley, you - _you’re_ the double agent?”   
  
Copley seemed desperate to defend himself, “Yes - I mean, _no_ ! It’s not like _that_ , I just - “   
  
He wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence. Lucio spun around the edge of the desk, and charged at his business partner, before Derek or Booker could stop him. He slammed his fist against Copley’s cheek with such force that he fell backwards, taking the chair with him. He rolled out onto the floor, whimpering and clutching his face.

Both Booker and Derek rushed forward, each grabbing Lucio by an arm, and he jerked against their hold roaring down at Copley, “What have you _done_?!”

Copley croaked out his apologies, repeating _‘I’m sorry!’_ over and over again, but Lucio bellowed right back, “He has my _son_ !” His voice cracked from the emotion, “You’ve known Nicolò since he was a kid!” When Copley didn’t reply, just stuttered incoherently, Lucio demanded to know, “How could you do this to him?!”   
  
“I swear, I didn’t know! I didn’t know what he was planning!” Copley began to rise to his feet, holding up his hands in front of him, “I would _never_ have told him if I thought he would do something like _this_ .”   
  
“People are _dead,_ Copley! We were the last ones left!” Lucio’s hands clenched tight, and it took every bit of Derek and Booker’s strength to keep him from lunging forward, “And you thought you would _what_ ? Play _both_ sides, risk my son’s life?!”   
  
Copley began to stammer all over again, and it was clear that if he had anything more to share about what Keane was doing with Nicky, he would have said it by now. He didn’t know anything that would help them get to Nicky quicker, and Lucio’s shoulders sagged, his head hanging low, as he realized the same thing they had. 

The guards had just arrived, with Andy, Quynh and Lykon filtering into the room shortly after, and Lucio practically jerked his arms out from them. This time they did release him, certain he wouldn’t try anything else, while the guards hoisted Copley to his feet. Lucio made his way towards the window that overlooked the backyard, refusing to look back. Not when Copley tried to apologize, not when the guards dragged him out the room, not when the rest of them discussed what to do next. Merely stared ahead in silence, until they had all agreed on a plan.   
  
Booker felt horrible for his old friend. Derek looked downright miserable, and who could blame him? Copley was going to be debriefed, but who knew how long he had been secretly feeding intel back to Merrick. There was a very real potential here that the last two years of their investigation was tainted by Copley’s actions. Booker couldn't even begin to fathom how far reaching this betrayal could go. 

And then of course, there was Nicky, _alone_ with Keane. 

Andy, Quynh and Lykon hovered around him, all debating the quickest routes they could take, and if they should split up to cover multiple possible destinations. But it wasn’t until Derek said he was going to go with them to _‘wherever the car stopped’_ , that Lucio finally spoke up, insisting on coming along. But no one was going to take that suggestion seriously. 

Lucio was now the only witness left for the grand jury trial in eight weeks, and because of what was happening, would likely be moved even further underground until then. Derek countered that with Keane’s actions tied to Merrick, the DEA could order federal protection for Nicky, and he’d be able to join them until then. When Lucio didn’t respond, Derek stepped up to the window, assuring him that he would do everything he could to bring his son back to him. 

Booker couldn’t tell from his angle the look Lucio was giving him, but he did hear his somber, strained voice reply, “You better.”

Derek offered him a weak smile of assurance, and asked Lucio if he thought he could handle _‘one call to Merrick’_. They would listen in of course, but maybe he would be dumb enough to admit something over the phone. Lucio seemed downright relieved to be able to do anything to help, and headed towards the desk for his phone, while Andy, Quynh and Lykon said they would go to the car already. Booker handed over the device, planning on being right behind them.

When Merrick answered, Lucio demanded to know what Keane was planning on doing with his son. But Merrick was utterly confused, and told him he had no idea what he was talking about.

He had fired Keane a month ago.

  
  


* * *

_Warehouse District_

_Present_

When Andy’s car had disappeared from view, Joe closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recenter himself. His right hand flexed at his side, still craving the feel of Nicky’s skin against it, before shoving both hands in his pockets. He had implied he would be right behind him, that he would see him soon, but there was a good chance they’d be separated even longer. 

It was only when he saw several police cars starting to pull out of the area, without him handcuffed in the back of one of them, that Joe realized he _wasn’t_ being taken in. He looked behind him, and saw Booker, Lykon and Derek talking nearby, glancing his way every now and then. There were still some officers processing the scene, but they were even further away, and Joe walked over to the three men to ask what was going on, “Not that I’m complaining, but why am I not being arrested?”   
  
Derek lifted his eyes from his phone, “I basically pulled some weight and vouched that you were acting on my behalf.” He shrugged his right shoulder, as if it was that simple, “I can’t _guarantee_ that Keane won’t wake up and demand to bring charges against you, but then the dipshit would have to admit to _why_ you beat the crap out of him.” He mumbled on about how he felt Keane was unlikely to admit to anything as he scrolled for something on his phone again.   
  
_‘Possibly’_ , Joe silently agreed, but the way Booker’s eyes shifted over to Derek told him there was something else, “Why was Keane taken away by the police, and not by you?”

Derek paused, hesitant to share, “The DEA can’t step in about Keane, it’ll have to be handled locally.”

 _‘What?’_ that made no sense to Joe, “But Merrick - I mean, I doubt he ordered Keane to go crazy, but he’s still tied to the man, and your investigation.”   
  
“No, _mon ami_ , he isn’t,” Booker pointed out, and Joe listened intently as he began to explain what had happened with Copley earlier. How Lucio’s business partner was basically working both sides, and had been feeding intel from the investigation for who knew how long. Though it was still too early in the debriefing process to tell what his motives were. 

Then came the biggest surprise: Keane had been fired by Merrick a month ago, and had flown to the US shortly after.   
  
“Wait,” Joe’s brow furrowed, “He’s been here a _month_ ? Not two weeks?”   
  
Derek passed along what Merrick had shared: that Keane had been given a severance package, and travel records confirmed that he had arrived the very next day. 

Joe felt like he was getting a headache from all the possibilities, and theories, cycling through his mind. Had Keane arrived and seen that Nicky had security? And then what, decided to stake them out for two weeks, trying to learn routines? But no one had those answers yet, and who knew if Keane would ever explain. Derek theorized that with Merrick flying in soon, it pushed Keane to hurry up his plans to take Nicky, because he knew Merrick would not lie about his unemployment. 

Yet he was done talking about that vile man. By now Merrick likely knew _something_ was wrong, and the DEA would move Lucio to an even more secure location until the trial. Joe only had _one_ question he desperately needed Derek to answer, “Is Nicky going underground with Lucio?”   
  
Derek explained that without Keane’s behavior directly tied to Merrick, that WITSEC couldn’t apply to him. He doubted Lucio would be allowed to bring anyone else along, not when they were down to one witness now. In fact, they were already working on moving him to a new location, and Derek glanced up at Joe, curious, “I don’t know, maybe I can work something out about Nicky staying with us?”   
  
_‘No’_ , Joe immediately thought, not with how bundled the investigation had gone so far. Not with witnesses _dying_ , and others betraying, and who knew _what else_ could happen in the next eight weeks. The thought of only Lucio left, sounded even more dangerous to Joe, “I want to talk to Lucio.” 

Derek dialed him up momentarily, and after assuring him that Nicky was still in the car with Andy and Quynh, explained that Joe wanted to talk to him. A moment later, he handed him the phone, and Joe raised it to his ear.  
  
He wished he could have feigned more patience and understanding. Wished Lucio’s _‘thank you for keeping Nicky safe’_ would have cooled his frustrations. But Joe knew _he_ messed up by allowing Keane to get to him in the first place. And he was going to make sure that Nicky would stay safe until his father testified, “Lucio, I don’t trust the people around you.”   
  
He was genuinely surprised by Lucio’s response, “I don’t either.”   
  
“Nicky needs to stay with us.” 

“I agree,” Joe could hear the pain in his voice, “I’ll call Quynh to let him know.”  
  
He hung up before Joe could say anything else, though really there was nothing else to add. Lucio’s worst fear had happened, his actions, his ties to Merrick had caused Nicky to get hurt. And who knew what else could happen in the next eight weeks? Joe could painfully empathize with the man.   
  
But he did feel better knowing Nicky wasn’t going underground with him. 

He handed the phone back to Derek, certain Andy would call him soon.

  
  


* * *

Andy drove through the warehouse district, being mindful of the potholes, but still Nicky’s hands gripped his knees tightly. His back felt itchy, his arms shaky, and his stomach flip flopped.

The EMT had given him a mild pain pill to hold him over, but had suggested something stronger as soon as they could get it. He debated sharing about the dull aches that were beginning to throb around his head, or the nausea. For all he knew, some of it was merely raw nerves anyway. Besides, what if they could circle back for Joe soon? The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in line at a pharmacy somewhere, when they could be heading home together momentarily.

Still, Nicky jostled at the sound of Quynh’s phone ringing, and closed his eyes. 

He was frustrated at himself for being so jittery when he was no longer in any danger.

He wished his body would get the hint that he was safe now.

He listened to Quynh greet his father by his name, and wearily opened his tired eyes. He did want to talk to his Dad, but he was struggling to think, struggling to speak, and he just wanted to get home. He was worried how jumbled the words still were inside of his mind. How garbled they sounded as they swirled around the headache that was beginning to pulse against his temples. But he could listen at least, that he _could_ manage.   
  
Andy pulled over while Quynh and his Dad conversed for a moment, but sure enough, she held the phone out to him, and explained he wanted to talk to him.   
  
Nicky took the phone from Quynh, and managed some sort of mumbled greeting. 

“Nicky, I’m so sorry.” _Why?_

“This is all my fault.” _How?_

“I should have told you sooner.” _Told me what?_   
  
“Are you there?”   
  
_‘Told me what?’_ , his mind repeated. But that felt far too difficult to say in the moment, “ _Si_ .”   
  
And that’s when Lucio shared it all. He sounded more emotional than he could ever recall his father being, as well as apologetic for how long he kept Nicky in the dark over his legal troubles. He tried to summarize as much as he could, while Nicky sank further against the leather seats, his back screaming at him for the fresh swipes of pain against his bruised, and torn skin. But it barely even registered. His head was spinning at the implications of what his father was sharing with him: _‘RICO, WITSEC, Derek and the DEA, Merrick, a trial’_.

Keane’s actions were deplorable enough, but now knowing this about his father? About him lying, Derek lying, _and -_   
  
_This was why the TOG were hired? Why Joe was around?_  
  
Who else knew? Mia, the staff? The guards?   
Who _else_ had been lying to him for the last month?

It was too much, and Nicky clutched the phone tighter, wishing he could muster the word, _‘stop’_.

“ . . . I have to go somewhere else till the trial.”  
  
 _‘Good’_ , Nicky wished he could say. He didn’t really know if he could see his father right now anyways. Bad enough that things were so delicate between them before. But he had made enough excuses for his emotionally distant state. He wasn’t going to for his criminal behavior, _and_ lying to him as well. He needed a few days to process, needed some space and time.   
  
He just wanted to curl into his bed.   
  
“The staff will be taken care of, and the property boarded for now.” _what?_

“And if you want to stay with me -” _I don’t._ “Then I’ll tell them to come and get you.”   
  
“But, if you want to stay with your security team you can,” his father sounded resigned, likely already knowing his answer, “It’s your choice, because I need to stop making decisions for you.”   
  
His fingers gripped the phone harder, and he could feel Andy and Quynh’s eyes on him, but Nicky kept his head down. He exhaled a trembling breath, and answered around a mild stutter that he would stay with his team. Lucio was quiet for a moment, and then explained he likely wouldn’t hear from him till after the trial, “But Joe has Derek’s number if there’s an emergency. I love you -”   
  
Nicky hung up on him.

He couldn’t remember one time his father had ever said that to him before, and it felt horrible that _that_ was when he had finally chosen to. In that painful moment where Nicky’s head was spinning from the news, where his thoughts were racing as fast as his heart was: _‘why tell me now?’_

Once again, tears blurred his vision, and he grew frustrated with himself.

How many more times was he going to fall apart today? 

“Nicky,” Andy spoke softer than he had ever heard before, “We have safe houses all over, but Joe’s the closest.”  
  
 _‘Joe?’_ He could stay with Joe?   
  
“Is that okay with you Nicky?”

He was angry with his father for lying, and upset with Joe for not telling him about his father. But if he couldn’t go home that night, then yes, he would want to go to Joe’s. Rest, talk, figure things out. But he was too worried how shaky his voice might sound if he spoke. He merely nodded his head to Andy’s suggestion, and heard her step out of the car to call him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Joe answered his phone on the second ring, “How is he?”  
  
“Quiet,” Andy shared on the other end, “Lucio told him about everything.”   
  
Joe glanced down at the gravel rocks underneath his boots, wondering how Nicky was feeling. But he doubted Nicky would tell Andy, he wasn’t even sure if he would tell _him_ at some point. So he stuck to facts instead, “I talked to Lucio, told him we’re taking care of Nicky until all this is over.”   
  
“Mm, he told him the same, Nicky wants to stay with us.”   
  
“He’ll stay with me,” Joe replied immediately, leaving no room for debate. Because it wasn’t a question, but a statement. 

He could hear the smile in Andy’s voice, “I figured as much. I’ll drive there now.”  
  
For the first time in hours, he felt some of the tension in his body drain away, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”   
  
It would still end up taking another hour before Joe managed to actually leave the scene. He made arrangements with the officer about Nicky giving his statement later, and exchanged information as to where they would be. And it took Booker and Derek coordinating to bring his own car there, since the SUV would need to remain with the property. But when he _finally_ was able to pull away, heading to his own home, _knowing_ Nicky would be there . . . he felt a mix of both anticipation, and trepidation.   
  
He ran through almost every possible conversation they might still have, even one involving Nicky shouting at him for his lies and secrecy. And yet, Joe didn’t care. He could grumble, and stomp his foot like a child, curse at him, _and_ yell. He just wanted Nicky to heal from what had happened, and keep him safe in the meantime.   
  
By the time he pulled up to the long winding country road, he had been driving for three hours. The sun had set a while ago, and it was almost completely dark. After plugging in the code to his gate, he pulled forward down the dirt driveway, flanked by tall pine trees on either side. Joe knew the perimeter chime had likely alerted Andy and Quynh to his arrival, and wasn’t surprised to see them already making their way down his front porch when he finally pulled up to his [small A-frame cabin](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/21729295?source_impression_id=p3_1614134318_rpVwP7A0UC6eyzqE).

His body ached from the long drive, and his muscles felt sore from the fight, but neither of those mattered enough to slow him down. Only Andy’s hands rising up in front of her made him pause on the front step, “I know you just want to barrel in there, but you need to know he’s not doing so well.”  
  
Joe felt his jaw clench, “What’s wrong?”   
  
“He had a lot of questions on the ride up here,” Quynh elaborated, “We tried answering them as best we could.”   
  
“What kind of questions?”   
  
They both had shared what little they knew about the investigation, and how Keane’s actions were not tied to Merrick. And they both apologized for not telling Nicky about what had happened at the club . . . before telling him the truth. Joe’s hands curled into fists, not because they had told him, but he hated that he couldn’t have spared Nicky from that awful knowledge a little longer. 

“How was he after?” Joe didn’t even know why he asked. Nicky likely felt miserable, horrified, enraged . . . 

“He went real quiet after that,” Andy answered, “We picked up some medication at the store on the way. Quynh stayed in the car with him -”  
  
“He didn’t say anything else,” Quynh glanced between them, almost apologetically towards Joe. But she had nothing to be sorry about, she wasn’t even at the club that night, “He took the pill, and I made him some cold compresses when we got here.”   
  
“She offered to get a bath going for him, or have him lay down in the bed, but he’s just been sitting on the couch. He won’t talk,” Andy took another step down, and Joe raised his eyes to her worried face, “Did you want us to stay for a while?”   
  
“No,” Joe declined her offer easily, “I need to talk to him alone.”   
  
“He might be angry,” Quynh pointed out, her voice soft and sympathetic. 

“As he should be,” he replied quietly. Joe was trying to keep his emotions at bay, but their concerned looks told him he wasn’t fooling anyone. Andy patted his arm twice as she stepped down past him towards her car, while Quynh gave him a hug that he barely managed to return. He loved them both, but he needed to get to Nicky.  
  
He didn’t even watch them leave.

Joe climbed the remaining steps, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  
  


* * *

Nicky had spent the majority of the drive getting angrier by the hour.

Andy and Quynh had answered his babbling questions as thoroughly as possible, sharing everything they knew about his father’s investigation, and the truth about Keane’s actions at the club a week earlier.   
  
But just underneath the anger, was the irritation and hurt. Frustration that _no one_ around him felt he could handle, or deserved, the truth. What else had been hidden from him in the past? What else could be hidden from him in the _future_?

 _‘I’m not made of glass’,_ he had told Nile just hours before. 

And yet if everyone kept treating him like it, how was he not supposed to break now?

But somehow, out of everything, it hurt the most to realize Joe had lied, too. 

At first Nicky had been relieved to hear that Joe’s place was the closest, and almost looked forward to having a moment alone, maybe even a few days, to process everything with Joe beside him. But now that he knew Joe had seen what Keane had done at the club, and just never told him? 

Worse, his mind kept ruminating on the morning after, when they had talked in the kitchen and Joe seemed so agitated: _‘You’re naive’_ . Nicky looked out the window, watching the tree lines get thicker and taller the further they drove away from the city, _‘you think because you would never hurt anyone, that no one would ever hurt you. And that’s naive.’_   
  
Reasonably he knew _only_ Keane was responsible for this, he certainly didn’t blame Joe for any of it. But more than once he closed his eyes, pushing down against the irritation building inside of him, _‘and who’s fault is it that I stayed naive when you lied to me?’_   
  
When Andy turned onto a long, dirt road off the small, county highway, Nicky tried to cool down some of his frustrations. Angry words would not help either of them once they finally had a chance to be alone together. Besides, even now, one truth remained: he still _needed_ Joe to tell him he was staying with him because he _wanted_ him there. Not out of some misguided guilt, or because he thought it was his ‘job’, but because he wanted Nicky to.

By the time they had pulled up to the gate, and drove down the driveway, Nicky felt exhausted. He wasn’t even really sure just how much he would be able to talk with Joe that night. Likely sensing he wasn’t feeling up for much, Quynh offered up several suggestions: a bath, a shower, food, the bedroom . . . but Nicky barely took in the small cabin.   
  
Just walked slowly through the dark hallway, towards the living room he could make out from the kitchen light. He spotted a grey couch towards his left, sat down on it, and rested the uninjured cheek along the edge. He was relieved when neither Quynh, or Andy, asked him any more questions. 

He closed his eyes, trying to rest, but he could hear them shifting around the small space, likely worried. He wished he had the energy to placate them, to assure them he’d be okay. Because he told himself he would be. He _had_ to be. But he also needed to save the last remnants of his energy for when Joe arrived an hour later.

When the perimeter alarm chimed, Nicky jolted a little, but he couldn't move off the sofa. The moment was here now, and he barely managed to mutter a quiet _‘goodbye’_ at Andy and Quynh. They told him he could call them anytime, and Nicky tried to move, tried to acknowledge their kind offer. But he felt frozen in place. More nervous than he had thought he would be.

Then finally, a few minutes later, he heard Joe’s heavy boots on the wooden floors.

He had planned to stand for this, but his body felt heavy. When he finally mustered the strength to at least lift his head to look over, he saw Joe standing there, leaning against the kitchen island of the small open floor plan. He wasn’t more than ten feet away from him, but it might as well have been a mile. A deep chasm between them that he hoped Joe would address first.  
  
But he just looked at him with those big, beautiful, dark eyes, filled with sadness? Regret?   
  
Nicky wished he could have more patience, wait to hear what Joe had to say, but he desperately needed answers himself. _Needed_ to clear things up between them, and finally words began to tumble out, "You knew - you knew about what was going on with my Dad?" 

Joe’s eyes looked heavy, his shoulders tense. He didn’t move closer, and the distance was literally the _last_ thing Nicky wanted, " . . . Yes."

"You - you’re the one that got Keane kicked out of the house at nights?" 

“Yes,” Joe tightened his hands around the edge of the counter, the muscles in his forearms flexing, though whether that was because he mentioned Keane by name, or because Joe had hoped to keep yet another secret from Nicky he wasn’t sure. And even the _possibility_ of the second option made Nicky’s frustrations flare. He _needed_ Joe to give him more than one word answers.

"I'm here until my Dad - until he goes to testify? In eight weeks?" he shifted his eyes down towards his lap, silently pleading against Joe's stoic resolve, _‘please say it’s because you want me to be here. Say this is more than just pity.’_

"Yes," he answered, but nothing else, and Nicky closed his eyes, breathing around the emotion bubbling up into his throat. 

He wished he could demand the answers, and maybe he’d have the energy to do it tomorrow. But for now he needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t be so reserved around him. Somebody, _anybody_ who could help him process some of his anxiety. _‘Nile’_ , he could talk to Nile. He didn’t know how much of any of this she knew, and he hoped she hadn’t lied to him, too. Yet _anything_ was better than sitting with this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, “Do you - do you have my phone?” 

“It’s still in evidence,” Joe explained, before he offered his own phone to use.

He almost accepted, raised his head to say as much . . . before realizing that Joe was standing there empty handed. And his eyes darted around the room, not seeing any bags, or boxes either. How had he not noticed sooner? “Where’s my - my stuff? My cl-clothes?”

Finally Joe moved, taking a step closer, "I came straight here . . . " But then he paused, and Nicky hoped he was about to say something else. The way his eyes had gleamed at him, implied there was more to Joe rushing to the home, instead of getting his stuff first. Maybe he needed to see him just as desperately, as Nicky had him?   
  
Regardless of how awkward this moment felt, he didn’t want Joe to leave for half the night to get his stuff. Maybe he could suggest Nile could, “Can I at least call Nile? She could get my stuff and Felicia.”

“Nicky, your home is being boarded up,” he felt like the floor tilted out from under him, and his head spun horribly as Joe explained what the DEA was doing. He recalled his Dad talking about leaving, but still, he hadn’t really put it all together at the time. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing around the concern he had for Mia, and the staff, and his responsibilities at the community center. He hadn’t had a chance to really think about anything.

And now Joe was saying that no one would be allowed to drive to the safe house they were staying at, _‘for safety reasons’_ ? It made Nicky feel defensive for Nile, and some of the frustrations seeped out of him, “She’s my friend, she would _never_ -”

“I know,” Joe hurriedly added, taking one more step, but still so frustratingly reserved. His tone was far too calm for how irritated Nicky felt, “I _know,_ but she could be followed.”

“Keane is gone,” he lifted his head, “he’s in jail, _right_?”

“The hospital,” Joe’s jaw clenched, before he softened, “No one is at your house anymore tonight.

Nicky felt like his heart thumped furiously inside of his chest, the panic swelling inside of his core, “Who has Felicia?” 

It did not help his nerves at all, when Joe sounded like _he_ was beginning to lose patience, “I’m not sure, but fine, I’ll find out.” He was already reaching into his back pocket, likely to grab his phone, “I’ll call Derek just after we get you into some fresh clothes, and to bed. You need to rest.”

He could care less about _‘rest’._ How was he supposed to relax not knowing what was happening with his home, with the staff, with his job, with Felicia? He hated how strained his voice already sounded, how close he was to tears, “But she’ll be here tonight?”

“Who? Nile?”

“ _Felicia_ ,” his voice cracked, and he immediately closed his mouth, embarrassed at how easily he was falling apart in front of Joe. 

It only made things worse, when Joe pointed out that Nicky needed to think of himself first, and “that there are more important things to worry about right now, than a cat -”

“I have _no_ clothes, I _don’t_ have my phone,” Nicky shook his throbbing head, feeling dizzy, but rising to his feet anyway. Joe moved closer, likely seeing the way he was swaying as his body was adjusting to the now upright position. But his cold stare made him stop just before he could reach him, “I have _no_ home to go back to for who _knows_ how long. What about Mia, what about all the people who work there?!” His mouth hurt, his cheek ached, his throat _burned_ with emotion, and he gestured between them, “You can’t even tell me who has Felicia right now, _and_ I might not see her again?”

Joe stared at him, pain etched on his face, possibly pity at the tears that were already blurring his vision, and Nicky couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t hold it together for a moment longer, and he refused to let Joe see him like this. It was bad enough that he thought he didn’t deserve the truth, but the possibility of him falling apart in front of him, would likely only encourage him to lie again. He wasn’t this sensitive, wasn’t this broken. He was _okay_ . He would _be_ okay. He just - he needed to get away. Needed to _think_ .   
  
He stepped around him, relieved when Joe didn’t stop him. He remembered Quynh pointing out which of the three doors in the hallway was the bathroom, and pushed the door open, slamming it behind him when he heard Joe following. He locked it just in time for Joe to grab the handle, and could hear him sighing on the other side, “Nicky, please.” He could hear Joe press against the door, his voice sounding a bit muffled, like he was leaning his forehead against the wood, “I know you were cleared, but you really shouldn’t be behind locked doors right now. I won’t come inside, just keep the door unlocked? Just in case you fall?”

 _‘No, I can’t,’_ Nicky thought, stepping away from the door. The home was small, and for all he knew this was the only spot he could have privacy to just process some of the day. 

He could hear Joe sigh on the other side, “I’ll grab something for you to wear tonight, and I’ll sit right out here if you need anything.” He sounded resigned, pushing away from the door, “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow morning.”

Only when he heard Joe step further away did Nicky allow the whimper to escape. He rushed towards the shower, hurriedly turning on the water, hoping to drown out the noises he inevitably was about to make. He had half hoped he would be able to still talk to Joe that night about letting Felicia stay with him tomorrow, or at least call Nile. But he knew what was happening. His body was forcing him to process what he had kept pushing back in his mind, and he doubted he’d be able to find the energy to debate much of anything later. 

_‘You’re safe now,’_ he tried to tell his body, tried to reason with it. But he could barely make out the sink in front of him, having to blink out a few tears before staring at himself in the mirror. He looked horrible, and it only made things worse to see the red rimmed eyes filled with pain, _‘it’s done now, you’re okay.’_

The affirmations didn’t help. His hands still trembled when he reached for the hem of his shirt, and raised it over his head. He slowly lifted his gaze to the mirror to take in the sight of the aftermath, and winced at the reflection.   
  
He had already seen the gash on his pink cheek, the split on his lip, but now he stared at the finger bruises on his upper arms from where Keane had grabbed him too roughly. His eyes traveled down to his stomach, at the large red bruise that was already turning a deep blue color from the punch. And he slowly angled his back to look over his shoulder, at the pink scrapes along his shoulder blades from the chair. 

Up until that moment, Nicky had told himself it wasn’t _that_ bad. 

But now he was literally staring at the truth.

It made him think of something his therapist had told him as a teenager once: _‘you can’t begin to heal, if you keep pretending you’re not hurt’._ _  
_   
And he _was_ hurt, in so many horrible ways. 

He hoped the water would muffle the noise of his cries, he was certain he just needed to get out a few. If he could just let out a _little_ of it at a time, he might be able to convince Joe he didn’t need to look at him like he was wounded. Because he _wasn’t._ He survived, it could have been _worse_ , it was going to be _okay_. 

With shaky fingers he removed the rest of his clothes, managing to step under the water, before he winced at the temperature running over his face. He closed his eyes, feeling the emotions rise to the surface, feeling the pain in his face when it contorted at the memories of the events just hours before.   
  
Trying to use every tool in his arsenal, he pursed his lips, stuttering out gasping _‘ooh’s’_ as he sang the familiar melody of his mother’s favorite song. He had managed it on Tuesday easily enough, but it took five tries before he could get through the intro of _Somewhere Over The Rainbow._ _  
_ _  
_ _‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay’,_ he kept chanting in his mind. But his legs felt weak as he slowly sank down onto the tiles beneath him.

He couldn’t even make out the drain between his feet, but he tried to imagine the worry and anxiety swirling away with the now cold water.

  
  


* * *

Joe was sitting in the hallway, his back beside the bathroom door, and texting with Booker and Derek. He was able to find out that Mia had Felicia, and that Booker could go over to the property sometime tomorrow with Nile, to grab anything they thought Nicky might like or need. She had been informed of what had happened, and obviously had hoped to speak with Nicky _‘as soon as possible’_ , but understood he would likely not feel up to it until the next day.   
  
Somehow she knew him better than anyone, and Joe wanted to reach out to her to ask her what he could do to help Nicky. Because he felt like he was doing everything wrong here.

When he had first seen Nicky sitting on his couch, he was relieved until he saw his hurt face, and felt like beating Keane all over again. He wished he could have comforted Nicky, told him how sorry he was, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He didn’t even feel like he had a right to be angrier than Nicky in the moment. And didn’t want to add his own frustrations to an already emotional scene. Or maybe he just couldn’t admit how scared he had been earlier, how worried and afraid he was that he wouldn’t have gotten to Nicky in time.  
  
When Nicky finally got angry with him, Joe felt like he deserved every word he shouted at him, because it was the truth. He _hadn’t_ thought about how much Nicky would need his things, merely rushed straight to him, desperate to be near him . . .   
  
He held the clothes between his hands, willing himself to hold it together a little longer. He didn’t want to burden Nicky with his feelings, but his fingers tightened around the black hoodie, and pajama pants, when he heard him turn off the shower.   
  
Joe stood up, waiting a minute, before quietly knocking on the door. Nicky opened it silently, a towel wrapped around his torso, but mostly hidden behind it. Joe could barely make out his damp hair peeking out past the frame, and he kept his head down, reaching for the clothes he was holding out between them.   
  
He stood there, watching through the crack of the door as Nicky stepped away and dropped the towel on the floor. He hurriedly looked away, not seeing the scrapes along his back, or the bruises on his arms, “I - I’ll set up the couch for tonight.” 

Nicky didn’t say anything, and Joe stepped away.

* * *

Nicky was relieved when Joe had handed him a hoodie to wear. It would cover the bruises on his arms better, and he could avoid even more stares from the man. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and was relieved to try to sleep, though he doubted it would be all that restful.   
  
When he finally felt like the skin on his face didn’t look so blotchy, he quietly stepped out into the dark hallway, and found Joe bent over the couch that was now pulled out to a small bed. It was covered in a white sheet, with two pillows on one end, and he straightened when he realized Nicky was standing nearby, “Hey. Here let me show you the bedroom.”   
  
He was confused when Joe started walking towards him, and shifted his eyes between him and the made couch, “Are you - sleeping on the couch?”   
  
He absolutely _hated_ how hoarse his voice sounded, how _obvious_ it was that he had been crying, but Joe thankfully did not ask him about it, “My bed is more comfortable, you’ll sleep better.”   
  
Nicky could _not_ kick Joe out of his own bed, the idea was downright ludicrous, “No - _no_ .”   
  
“Really, it’s fine.”   
  
_‘No, it’s not,’_ “I’ll - I’ll take the couch.”   
  
“Nicky -” he began to argue, but when he raised his weary eyes to Joe’s, he stopped talking.   
  
“Can I just make _one_ decision for myself today, _please_?”

Joe stared at him for a moment, he didn’t seem to like the idea, but he relented with a silent nod anyways. They both walked over together, Nicky settling down into it and turning away so he could lay on his side, on the cheek that wasn’t hurt. He felt Joe placing a soft blanket over him, and he pulled it over his broad shoulders, “Thank you.”  
  
He had half expected Joe to leave, but instead he could hear him sitting down on the floor behind him, “I made arrangements with Booker and Nile for tomorrow.”   
  
Nicky was afraid to even look back in case he was misunderstanding, “Arrangements?”   
  
Joe shifted, sounding closer now, like he was leaning against the edge of the sofa mattress, “They’ll go and get your things. Clothes, your mom’s plants, anything you want. And Nile could even stay for a few hours, before Booker takes her home?”   
  
It warmed his heart to think of Joe having worked that all out in the last twenty minutes. And he could already imagine his mom’s plants, lined up against the french doors nearby. He almost hesitated to ask, but if Joe was trying to take care of things . . . “And Felicia?”

“Yes, she can stay here,” then he heard the _slightest_ teasing tone in Joe’s voice, “But I am not dealing with the litter box.”

Nicky let out a dry chuckle, surprised at even himself that he could find a slither of happiness at the end of this horrible day. But then tears stung at his eyes all over again, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, his split lip pulsating in response to how tightly he was trying to keep the sob lodged inside.

He wished Felicia was there now.

He wished he was in his own bed.

He wished he wasn’t crying in front of Joe, struggling to keep his shoulders from shaking.

How many more tears could his body make? How many more times would he crumble like this?

  
  


* * *

Joe felt downright helpless.  
  


Watching Nicky cry softly on his couch hurt in a way he hadn’t even thought he could experience. And though he likely didn’t want Joe to watch him, the thought of leaving felt equally painful.  
  
He was willing to do anything for this man, accommodate him in any way he could. Let him have the couch for tonight (though he was already contemplating how to switch the sleeping arrangements soon), and even allow his cat in the house, when he had never had a pet before. But he couldn’t leave him alone in his living room, crying himself to sleep. 

No matter how embarrassed he was likely feeling about it.

He didn’t say anything, but leaned a little closer, folding his arms over the edge near Nicky, and laying his head down. He’d stay as long as it would take for Nicky to fall asleep.

  
  


* * *

**NOTES:** Did you know the original notes called for us to end this chapter with Joe arriving at his house? We were originally going to have a lot more dialogue in that first half and expanded scenes of Copley's betrayal and _not even reunite Joe and Nicky till the next chapter_?? Wouldn't that have been awful after the previous chapter? See we aren't total sadists haha. And who guessed it was Copley? I think I remember a few ;)   
  
But otherwise, how's everyone doing? Let's check in for a moment, because we got "Manpain Joe" over here, who thinks he'll just bottle up all emotions, and not "burden" Nicky with them (and not like _anything_ could go wrong with that, right?! /sarcasm) And NICKY gahhhh, how deep do the lies go? How does he even begin to unpack not only a violent physical and sexual assault, but also everything he thought he knew over the last month was based around lies??  
  
He's got some tools to cope, okay, but come on all this?? Yikessss . . . **SO COMING UP ON FRIDAYYYYY (yes, as in TWO DAYS, SURPRISE!)** . . . we will be posting "Day Two" (I was hoping to write both Day One and Day Two together - you'll see why on Friday). We will be diving more into the comfort portion but we do need to get one major plot point handled before the reprieve of a few chapters of "Joe's Safe House Bonding" (yes, bonding is code haha, but whennnn?? Well soonishhhh). So, see you on Friday! <3

  
  
  



	10. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day brings some surprises, in more ways than one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guyssss I am so glad we were able to get this Day Two part to you guys on Friday, because all the "but Felicia!!" comments made it SO hard for me not to spoil things for you guys! But here it is, Day Two, and hopefully now you can see why we decided to split it up - it would have just been SO much to cover in one update. 
> 
> I do want to point out one potential trigger warning, in that **SPOILERS** Nicky will have a ptsd nightmare in this chapter. If you want to skip it, basically read past where he falls asleep in the day, and pick up once he steps out of the bedroom. **END SPOILERS** 
> 
> Also . . . y'all about to get real mad at the American justice system in this chapter, just saying.  
> See you in the end notes!

* * *

_“I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways." - Rumi_

* * *

  
  


The first time Nicky woke up, was just as the light from the sunrise filtered into the living room. 

He couldn’t put too much weight on his right cheek, but he was able to shift a little and see that Joe had fallen asleep beside him. His lower body was still on the floor, his face buried against his folded arms, and his muscular shoulders stretched out his shirt from the way he was laying.  
  
Nicky could not possibly imagine the position was all that comfortable, but he cherished the fact that he stayed there through the night all the same. He watched Joe for a few minutes, listening to his steady, even breathing, before he slowly moved his hand away from his side. Joe’s face was turned away, and Nicky aimed for the soft wisps of curls forming at the crown of his head.   
  
He had always wanted to know what his hair would feel like against his fingertips.   
  
Carefully, hoping he would not wake him, Nicky gently glided them over the strands, and smiled softly as he fell back asleep.

* * *

When Joe woke up the next morning, he realized he had fallen asleep beside the couch, and his body ached from the position of sitting on the floor, with his half of his body bent over the edge of the sofa mattress. The sun had just risen, and he groggily turned his face towards Nicky on the couch, relieved to see he was still sleeping.   
  
But it was the warm fingers that slid down from his head, and flopped onto his arm, that made Joe sit up straight. Nicky stirred a little from his movements, his face still turned away, but Joe now realized that his fingers had _been in his hair_ . . . and were _now_ curled around his forearm.   
  
_‘When - ?’_ Joe blinked at the sight, and debated pulling back, or staying close. _Surely,_ Nicky hadn’t realized what he was doing in his sleep. He even told himself that this was nothing more than an inadvertent happenstance. But still, as much as it hurt to see that wound on his cheekbone, Joe couldn’t help but allow himself a moment to stare at his sleeping face.   
  
He relished in the feel of Nicky’s hand on him, and then stepped away to let him sleep longer.   
  


* * *

  
  
The second time Nicky woke up was several hours later.

Joe was no longer there, and he groggily sat up, his body sore and achy but at least he hadn’t had any nightmares.   
  
“Morning,” Joe’s voice called over from the kitchen nearby. Nicky glanced across the open space, and saw him plating up a dish of eggs and toast, “Tea or water?”   
  
“Coffee?” Nicky hoped for something stronger, but Joe explained he unfortunately didn’t have any at his place, and he slouched against the couch, “Tea, then.”   
  
Joe let out a light laugh, and it sounded nice to Nicky’s ears, “I’ll ask Booker and Nile to bring some over later today?”

“Yes, please,” he replied as he watched Joe walk over with a plate in one hand, and a cup in the other. He had planned to reach for them, but Joe put the cup on the coffee table, and tucked his curved finger under Nicky’s chin. He gently tilted his head back, encouraging Nicky to look up at him, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.   
  
Joe stared down at him, examining his face, “No swelling overnight, that’s good.” He slowly pulled his hand back, and it took all of Nicky’s self control not to follow the movement, “We should still use another compress after you’re done eating.”

He sort of nodded at the suggestion, and Joe handed him his plate before walking back to the kitchen. How was he supposed to eat casually when all he wanted was for Joe’s fingers to roam along his jawline? He knew he should possibly give Joe a harder time about the lies, but he _was_ making an effort _and_ allowing him to stay with him. Nicky didn’t really have it in him to stay mad for too long. Yesterday was exhausting enough, and he _knew_ there was more to discuss, but watching Joe in his kitchen, pouring himself his own cup of tea, felt like the start of a better day. 

Besides after the day he had, he thoroughly planned to enjoy the most mundane morning he could.

He hadn’t even noticed at first, but Joe must have been awake long enough for a shower and change. His hair was a little damp, and he was wearing more relaxed clothes. Slim cut jeans that hung low on his hips, and a soft cotton shirt that accentuated his long torso. He didn’t look as tense as he was last night, but Nicky knew him long enough to tell that he was lingering in the kitchen for a reason. Buying time for himself instead of just asking whatever was on his mind.

Nicky hoped Joe wanted a mundane morning, too.

Hoped he didn’t want to talk about yesterday, either.

  
  


* * *

Joe was staring down at the cup of tea he had poured for himself.   
  
He could tell Nicky hadn’t started eating yet, and he hoped he hadn’t made him uncomfortable by touching his face again. He _really_ had only meant to make sure the pain meds had worked last night, _and_ that he was healing properly, but he didn’t have to touch him for that. 

It was bad enough when he woke up earlier, his body aching and stiff in more ways than one. But to feel Nicky’s fingers on him, to pull back and smell _his_ body wash _on_ him, made him have all sorts of thoughts. Like how they could take a shower together one day. One where Joe could pin Nicky up against the tiles, his thick thighs wrapped around his waist. Where he’d cling to him and moan Joe’s name against his neck.

He had barely made it to the bathroom, tugging off his clothes in a rush, and climbing into the shower. He imagined that very scene as he fisted his cock under the hot water, groaning Nicky’s name as quietly as he could when he came . . . 

He had hoped some of the tension would drain from his body, but he did feel some guilt for thinking of Nicky like _that_ while the man was recuperating from an attack on his couch. Nicky wasn’t there for anything but recovery and safety, and Joe needed to keep that at the forefront of his mind. Turning around, he swirled the liquid inside the cup, feeling the heat seep into his palm. He needed to keep his hands to himself, and play things nonchalant, “Did Andy and Quynh give you a tour of the place last night?”

“No,” Nicky picked up the toast from the plate, keeping his eyes down, “well, they told me which room was the bathroom and the bedroom.”

“It looks better in the day anyways,” Joe pointed out, “Once you’re done eating, I’ll give you the ten minute tour.”  
  
He gave him a soft smile at the idea, before carefully taking a bite. Joe watched him, making sure he wasn’t in any discomfort, but Nicky chewed slowly and seemed okay. He was relieved, because he wondered if he would have needed to make him smoothies for a few days.

Afterwards he _did_ walk Nicky around the cabin, but sure enough, by minute seven, he had already seen the main layout of the one bedroom, one bath home. The kitchen, living, and dining area were one big room. French doors and high windows lined one end of the home, and he kept a small home gym in the corner by the fireplace, which had a small tv hanging above it. It was perfect for Joe, but he hoped it wasn’t too small for Nicky, who likely could fit his entire home in his living room.   
  
He walked him past the couch, towards the wood stairs, and up to his art studio. It was the main reason he bought the house years ago anyways. Large windows took up most of the triangular wall on one side, while the other overlooked the living area below. Joe kept it fairly simple with low bookcases built in along the walls, and art supplies organized in various sized bins above them. Nicky had seen him drawing at his house, but doodling in the margins of a book was different than seeing a painting balanced on an easel in the corner. 

Nicky was generous in his compliments, and Joe felt humbled by his accolades.

But the truth was that he so rarely came to his house, once, maybe twice a year, renting it out for weekly stays instead. He hadn’t painted in over three years, and he almost hoped taking two months to stay here might help him decompress from the events that had happened.

He didn’t want to burden Nicky with that though, didn’t want him to worry about anything but getting better himself, so he chose not to share any of that. Instead, when Booker called while Nicky was examining one of his vintage cameras, he almost felt relieved, certain that he would have begun to ask him questions that he wasn’t really ready to answer.  
  
Like why there was a light coat of dust over a majority of the supplies.

“Hi, Booker,” Joe greeted him warmly, and watched Nicky peer over the camera with his big, round eyes, likely hoping Nile was already with him.   
  
She was, and more than eager to talk to Nicky, _‘if he felt up for it.’_ Joe pressed the phone against his chest, and asked Nicky if he would like to talk to her, and he practically beamed as he walked across the studio. Joe raised the phone to his ear again, smiling, “Here he is.”   
  
When Nicky reached for it, his fingers brushed over his own, but Joe didn’t allow himself to read too much into it, “May I use your room?”   
  
“Of course,” he replied, glad that they had each other to talk to. He hoped even a phone call might help Nicky, though he imagined nothing could compare to actually getting to see her in person in a few hours, “I’m going to have my brunch on the back porch, if you need anything.”   
  
Nicky grinned, holding the phone close as he descended the stairs, and made his way down the hallway.   
  
Joe felt a familiar heat pooling in his stomach at the thought of Nicky finally being in his bed. And he wondered if the sight of it would match the _numerous_ scenarios he had envisioned in the last month. 

Then he reminded himself again that _that_ was not what Nicky was there for, before he made his way outside. 

  
  


* * *

Nicky hadn’t seen Joe’s bedroom yet. It had a window on one end that overlooked the backyard with a small chair underneath. A closet was across from it, and there was a tall dresser beside the door he walked in from. For a moment, Nicky debated locking it, but he recalled how worried Joe was last night about him being behind locked doors. And he doubted Joe would just barge in. He decided to leave it unlocked, took the grand total of four steps to make his way across the room, and sat down on the edge of the Queen sized bed that was pressed into one corner. 

Though the space was small, it felt cozy. 

“Nicky, you are _killing_ me here, will you say _something_ ?”   
  
_‘Cazzo’_ , he had almost completely forgotten about Nile on the phone. He had given her a quick _‘hold on’_ on the stairs, but now hurriedly raised the phone to his face, “Sorry, I - I’m here.”

“You have nothing to apologize for like the next _decade, I_ owe _you_ \- ” he could hear her sniffling on the other line, before trying to stifle it. He knew what she wanted to say, to apologize for leaving, “I had no idea, I would _never_ have -”   
  
He closed his eyes, utterly grateful that out of everyone, at least she hadn’t known. He hated that for a moment he had been worried she might have lied to him, too. But the circumstances around yesterday, had led him down an almost paranoid road of anxiety and he sank back onto the bed, relieved, “It’s not your fault.”   
  
Really, it wasn’t. Or his Dad’s, or Joe’s, or anybody _but_ Keane’s. No, they shouldn’t have lied, _and_ he needed to talk to them all about it, but the sad truth was, the man would have likely done something else to get to him eventually. He _had_ done other things before, and Nicky closed his eyes at the memory of what Keane had taunted him with.   
  
He hadn’t even _begun_ to dismantle that event, and he refused to over the phone with Nile, “Can-Can we talk about it more when you get here?”   
  
She understood, and he could hear her wiping her own tears away, “We’ll just hold each other for a few hours this afternoon crying?”   
  
“Exactly,” Nicky relished the smile he could hear in her voice, and tried to joke right back, “won’t be any different than when we watch sad movies together.”   
  
Nile couldn’t suppress her loud laugh, and Nicky couldn’t wait to see her. There was so much to say, so much to unpack, but for now, she explained she was already at his house with Booker (who was loading the plants in the car). She had already packed several of his favorite clothes, and was walking through his large closet asking about a few others. But Nicky looked over at Joe’s, uncertain how much of his own stuff would fit in there, and told her the duffle bag she had already packed would be _‘great’_ .   
  
“Alright, onto the toiletries!” she chuckled, making her way to the bathroom. She grabbed all the essentials, and his shaving kit, then asked him if he could think of anything else he might need.   
  
Nicky didn’t think so, told her as much, but she huffed in feigned annoyance at his _‘lack of preparedness’_. He genuinely had no idea what she was referring to, until he heard her pull open the drawer in his nightstand, “Jackpot!” She snorted around a giggle, “I’ll add a few personal items to the toiletries bag.” 

Nicky already knew _exactly_ which drawer she was pulling things out from, and sank further into the bed, rolling his eyes, “ _Stop_ packing condoms and lube.” 

But she teased right back, “I’ve seen that _tank_ of a man, you will need _both_ bottles.” 

He felt his shoulders shake with the suppressed laugh he tried to contain behind his closed mouth. Because dammit _if_ anything would ever happen, she was probably right about that. However, the thought of Joe walking in, and asking what was so funny, felt downright embarrassing and he was glad that she moved on quickly enough, “By the way, good news! Right after this, we’re picking up Felicia from Mia’s.”   
  
Nicky couldn’t wait to see her, to snuggle her close and feel her soft fur against his pink cheek. He slowly lowered his hand away, slightly emotional at how much everyone was coordinating to help him at the moment: to bring him his things, his mother’s plants, Felicia . . . he was so very grateful - 

“Nicky,” his heart thumped, he knew that tone, that _worried_ tone.   
  
“What’s wrong?”

“I - There’s a note,” she mumbled, “It was tucked under your pillow, peeking out.”  
  
“What does -” Nicky sat up from the pillows, “What does it say?” 

He could hear her unfolding it, and his breath caught at the words, “ _‘See you soon’_ .”   
  
He felt a horrible twist in his stomach, and he covered his mouth, worried he could be sick. He could hear Nile say his name, her voice sullen, because neither of them was going to pretend that the note came from anybody but Keane, but the issue of _when_ he had left it was something Nile pressed back against.

“He probably,” his voice was muffled, and he lowered his hand, “He probably just left it before -” Nicky couldn’t finish the sentence, his heart already beating fast. 

She began to go on about the possibility of Keane having made bail, that maybe he had left the note _just before_ her and Booker got there. And then she said the very thing he feared she was going to do, “I have to let him know.”   
  
Nicky begged her not to, that they _‘didn’t even know for sure’_ , “Please- _please_ Nile, don’t.”

He just needed one full day of no surprises. _Just one_ .   
  
He could hear Nile beginning to cry, and her words broke him, “I won’t risk your safety for a secret.”   
  
She was right, he _knew_ she was doing the right thing, but he couldn’t think of Keane. _Not today_ . Not if there was something to that note. Not if it meant there was _more_ around the corner. He’d apologize later, but he hung up the phone without saying another word, and lowered himself down into the pillows.   
  
He ignored the repeated calls, and closed his eyes.

He had just wanted one mundane morning.

  
  


* * *

Joe had just finished his plate, and was sitting on his back porch looking out at the dense cluster of pine trees at the far end of the property line. He paid for someone to mow the yard, and trim some hedges around the house, but he had never really bothered decorating it before. Outside of one small grill in a corner, and a few lawn chairs, the outdoor area was fairly plain in comparison to the almost eclectic style he had going on inside. 

When his secondary phone rang, the one that was mostly used for emergencies, Joe didn’t think too much of it at first. Nicky and Nile were likely still talking on his, and Booker was probably calling to ask if he could hurry Nicky along so they could get on the road before it got any later, “Hey, what’s up - “  
  
“Joe, don’t panic,” he instantly felt his chest tighten at Booker’s words, bracing himself for whatever the heck he was about to say next, “Nile found a note. And we think it’s from Keane.”   
  
_‘Fucker’_ , Joe was ready to spit back, thinking of that horrible man trying to taunt Nicky. And then he realized what Booker was implying, “When did he leave it?”   
  
“I can’t be sure, we just found it, and I already called Derek,” Joe clutched the phone harder, “They’re sending someone over to process it, to see if Keane’s fingerprints are on it.”   
  
Joe felt like he could punch a wall, because he already knew before he even asked, “He made bail, didn’t he?”   
  
Booker paused, then solemnly answered, “A few hours ago.”   
  
Joe jerked the phone down into his lap, his mouth clamped tight, his nostrils flaring, _trying_ to breathe around the anger -   
  
“Joe?”   
  
He tried to push it down, at least long enough to get through this conversation. Raising the phone back to his ear, he wearily asked, “How?”   
  
“They processed him at the hospital yesterday, because they didn’t think he was stable enough for the county infirmary.”   
  
_‘Good’_ , Joe thought, he _hoped_ he caused him some damage, “How bad off is he?”   
  
“Busted left ear drum, hairline fracture to the jaw, bruised vocal chords, and concussions,” Booker explained, “they didn’t think he’d even wake up for a day or two.”   
  
“So why did they process him already?”   
  
Joe could hear Booker’s own irritation bleeding into his words, “I think some local was worried the DEA would sweep in, so they tried booking him quicker into the system to bring the charges against him.”   
  
_‘Fuck’_ . But still, even with processing, even with a rush of coordination between lawyers, this was far too lenient for the charges he was facing, “How was he allowed to post bail already, the man kidnapped -”   
  
“Joe, I’m sorry,” Booker interrupted, “they dropped a bunch of shit.”   
  
A fresh wave of frustration rolled over his shoulders, “What the _hell_ are you talking about?”   
  
“Some law student got assigned his case, and they already met with the prosecutor,” Booker sighed, “ _merde,_ they dropped almost everything.”   
  
Joe was downright shocked, he couldn’t even fathom how _anything_ that happened yesterday could result in Keane walking around today, “What? _How_ ?”   
  
While Booker began to fill him in, Joe lifted his hand to rub the back of his stiff neck, “They couldn’t do a kidnapping charge because Nicky got in the car willingly, wasn’t restrained at any time, and no ransom was made.”   
  
“He had a _gun_ on him, Booker,” he interjected, “shouldn’t that count for reasonable expectation -”   
  
“I’m sorry _mon ami_ , the prosecution decided not to file it that way.”   
  
“What about,” Joe roamed his hand over his head, not wanting to think about, but he needed to know, “the fucker had his dick out, what about _that_?”

Booker’s voice was far too soft for the way the words cut into him, “Nicky refused to say he did anything, and declined a kit.”

Joe lowered his hand, a cramp forming at how tightly he curled it into a fist. He wasn’t upset with Nicky, he had every right to choose not to go to the hospital. But with the chain of custody now broken, it would become a he-said, he-said charge. _Maybe,_ they would allow Joe to testify about what he saw when he charged at Keane, but even that could be contested fairly easily.   
  
Yet he remembered the pictures they took of Nicky’s face. The wounds he would be recovering from for days. _Those_ were undeniable, and Joe demanded to know what he _was_ being charged with. 

“Misdemeanor assault with a deadly weapon.”

Joe felt the anger jolt through him, as if he could hurl the phone at the wall behind him.

The charge carried a maximum penalty of up to a year of prison time in a county facility, “He _hit_ Nicky with a gun, and he could be out in _less_ than a year?”   
  
Booker sounded equally frustrated with the idea, but there was nothing they could do. Joe bolted out of his chair, _needing_ to pace on the porch to burn off some of the adrenaline his rage was pumping through his body. 

He went on to share that Keane had woken up before anyone thought he would, pleaded not guilty with the virtual arraignment hearing arranged, then posted bail before checking himself out against medical advice. Joe had never heard of things moving _this_ quickly, and he wondered which police captain felt the pressure from on top to keep Keane away from the DEA agents they feared would swoop in. They must have woken up a judge from his sleep, and wrangled a prosecutor in a hallway, to have pulled all this off in just under twenty four hours (when legally they could have kept him chained to that hospital bed for two days without charges).   
  
Joe paused, knowing there was nothing they could do about what was already done. But he was becoming more desperate by the minute, “What about a harassment order?”

“The cops were planning on meeting with Nicky on Monday for his extended statement, but I’m sure we could have an emergency one issued before then?”

“Let’s do it,” Joe ran his hand over his face, before curling it around the back of his neck again, “I’m sure he wouldn’t come here, he doesn’t know where we are, but still.”  
  
Booker agreed, then shared that Nile was pretty upset, “I take it we shouldn’t come your way?”   
  
He _hated_ the pain this would cause Nicky, but no, it wasn’t safe, “Can’t risk it, not until we know where he is.”   
  
“I figured,” he agreed, “maybe meet up somewhere instead?”   
  
“Probably,” Joe began to walk across the porch, reaching for the french door, “I need to go talk to Nicky, check in on him. You said Nile told him?”   
  
“Just that she found the note, then he hung up on her,” Joe hoped he wasn’t sitting alone in his room for too long, panicked, “but no, he doesn’t know about Keane.”   
  
“I’ll call you back,” Joe swung the door open, barely registering Booker saying they would wait at the house until he did, before hanging up.   
  
Standing in front of his bedroom door, he knocked once, but could only make out a mumbled response from within. But when Joe opened the door, and saw Nicky sitting on his bed, knees drawn close to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, he stilled.   
  
Out of all the ways he had imagined getting to see Nicky in his bed for the first time, why did the moment have to be tainted with this worry hanging over them both?

Nicky looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, “He’s out, isn’t he?”  
  
Joe stepped away from the door, wanting nothing more than to tell him it was going to be okay. To wrap his own arms around him, and assure him they could keep the world out for a little while longer. But they needed to address this, he _refused_ to keep any more secrets from him. He carried enough guilt about what happened, he couldn’t do another one. Not even to spare his nerves, “Yes.”

Nicky’s gaze was fixated on the patterns of his comforter, but he remained silent, and Joe wished once again he knew what he was thinking, “We don’t have to talk it about today, and I’ll figure out a way to get your stuff later -” 

That did get a response, and Nicky turned his head towards him. His eyes shined, wet with tears already, “You won’t let them come now?”

“They can’t, not until we can track Keane,” he took another step closer, hoping Nicky would understand, “we can’t risk it.”  
  
Nicky unwrapped his arms, and angled his body towards him, “No, please.”   
  
Joe tried to assure him, “I’ll find another way to get your things -”   
  
“Please,” Nicky leaned onto his hands, “I _need_ to see Nile. I need Felicia.”   
  
“You will, just not tonight,” Joe reached for him, unsure how to help, but wanting to try anyways.

But Nicky jerked back, his head hanging between his shoulders, while his arms trembled. And Joe _ached_ to take his pain away, “I’m sor-”   
  
“Please just -,” his voice was shaky, and he began to turn away from him, facing the wall, “Just leave me alone, Joe.”   
  
He might as well have slapped him across the face, it would have hurt less, “Nicky - “   
  
Nicky lowered himself onto the bed, his one word reply sounding monotone, “Please.”

Joe didn’t know what to do with the churning inside of his stomach, or with the unspoken words caught in his throat. But maybe he could still find a way to fix this, he had to try.   
  
Without another word, he turned around, and left the room.

  
  


* * *

When he heard the door close behind him, Nicky allowed some of the tears to fall, but he could tell he was shutting down. He had simply been through too much, and he began to feel as if he could float away. He was so worn out laying in the bed, and staring at the white wall beside him, but his mind drifted further and further away from the horrible moment he was trapped in. 

It was bad enough that he would have to go another day (or more) without Nile, or Felicia, or even a semblance of anything he owned, because of _Keane_ . But he felt deeply embarrassed about how much he was crying around Joe.   
  
Joe _had_ given him the courtesy of the truth, and how had he responded? With tears.   
Could he really question why _no one_ had wanted to tell him the truth about anything, when he crumbled like _this_ ?   
  
Maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison, maybe his nerves were too wrought to really handle _any_ sort of news? But he _desperately_ needed Joe to leave before he broke down completely. He feared he would cry for hours, and instead, he laid there in silence until he had fallen asleep from the mental exhaustion of it all.   
  
When he did wake up, Nicky could tell by the way the sun was now filtering through the window that it had been hours. Possibly late afternoon. His head hurt, and his limbs felt stiff.   
  
“I’m glad you’re awake,” he could feel Joe’s weight dip the edge of the bed behind him. Nicky hadn’t heard him come into the room, but he was glad he was there now. He knew they needed to talk, tell him he was okay. Maybe even admit that he yearned for him to reach out again, that he wouldn’t deny him twice.   
  
But when Nicky rolled onto his back, it wasn’t Joe he was looking up at.

It was Keane.  
  
His whole body tensed, and he opened his mouth to scream but Keane hurriedly clamped his hand over it so the sound was muffled. Nicky’s hands reached up, trying to push him away, scratching at his wrist when he didn’t relent, “Now, is that any way to greet me?”   
  
He tried to raise his legs to kick him in the side, but Keane easily climbed over him, bearing his weight down so hard and fast, that it felt like it had knocked the wind out of him. Nicky’s upper body jerked around the choking sensation, and the scab over his split lip began to tear against his rough, pressing fingers. But at least he managed to shift his head enough to bite down on him, the blood from his lip, mixing with the blood from his teeth. 

Keane roared at the pain, hurriedly pulling back to raise his hand to strike him. Nicky lifted his hands to block the blow, _screaming_ for Joe - 

And woke up from his nightmare.  
  
Nicky was breathing hard, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, as he slowly lowered his hands away from his face. He carefully dabbed at his lip, but the scab forming was still intact, and he wearily raised himself up onto his elbow. His head throbbed, unsure how long he had been sleeping, but when he realized Joe wasn’t rushing into the room, he came to the realization that he had likely only screamed inside of his own head.   
  
He didn’t care how pathetic it might look to him, he _needed_ Joe, needed to find him. 

If he couldn’t lay down with Nile, or Felicia, maybe Joe would be okay with it. _Just this once_.

He kept going over his mantras, trying to assure his body he was okay, and allow some of the adrenaline he pumped, to be exhaled out in slow, even breaths. And _still_ it took him several minutes to peel himself out of the bed, and stumble over towards the door on wobbly knees. He wasn’t sure if he was dehydrated, or hungry, or if his anxiety was causing him to feel so dizzy, but he hoped Joe was nearby.   
  
Once he finally managed to step into the hallway, he could see that Joe was not in the living room. He walked over towards the room anyways, thinking that maybe he was in his studio, before Nicky spotted his secondary phone lying on his counter, on top of a note. He picked up the phone, and read the message:   
  
_Nicky - it might take a few hours, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I have my phone, and you can call with the other one if you need anything. - Joe._

He brought the phone close to his chest clinging to it, as the fear seeped out of him, replaced with humbling gratitude. Because _of course_ Joe had gone to _them_ instead, to make sure he still got as many of his things as possible today. 

He pulled the phone back, and flipped it open. Nicky wanted to thank him, to tell him how much this meant to him, but then he heard the perimeter chime echo above him. Joe was back, and Nicky had to wonder how long he had been asleep in his bed. He wanted to rush outside and watch him drive up the long driveway, but he still felt a little lightheaded. Instead he leaned his exhausted body against one of the beams on the front porch just as Joe pulled up.   
  
When he parked in front of the cabin, Nicky began to descend the steps to help him carry in the clothes, while Joe stepped out of the car.   
  
But he froze mid step, eyes bright at the sight of Joe holding Felicia’s cat carrier in one hand. He offered Nicky one of those lopsided grins that made him feel even _more_ weak at the knees, “I don’t think she likes car rides, so I rushed back as quickly as I could.”   
  
Nicky couldn’t even speak, didn’t even know where to _begin_ to explain how much this meant to him. He was still trying to decide which words to possibly thank him with as he resumed his steps, before realizing that no words would do it justice. Instead, once he stood in front of Joe, he roamed his eyes over his face, before he leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. Nicky’s lips brushed just over his beard line, and he hoped he managed to glide them over the small cluster of freckles he counted no less than five of, a week ago. 

He had imagined what Joe’s skin would feel like against his lips before, but he pulled back before he got carried away. He knew he likely shouldn’t allow himself to trail further down, like to the pulse point in Joe’s neck that was now beating furiously under that glorious, tanned skin.   
  
Instead, he stared up into Joe’s hazy eyes, and reached for the carrier still in his hands. Nicky gave him a soft smile, his fingers sliding slowly down Joe’s wrist, until he could take the handle in his own hand. But he never looked away embarrassed, or shy, because he didn’t regret it. Didn’t regret the small peck of gratitude. He silently mouthed _‘thank you’,_ and Joe gave him a slight nod, before he took the carrier from him and turned to head inside.

With all the unknowns he had faced in the last day, kissing Joe on the check felt like the one certainty. 

  
  


* * *

  
He was going to need another shower.

Out of all the ways Joe had imagined coming back, Nicky kissing him on the cheek was the _last_ thing he had expected. And dammit, even with that healing split lip, they felt so soft on his skin. It took _everything_ in him not to wrap his arms around his slim waist and pull him flush against his chest.   
  
Worse, he had to hear Nicky sounding downright content as he talked to Felicia through the metal gate, _and_ watch that round ass stretch those jeans with every upwards step he took. 

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, but he needed to push it down for now. Nicky was just emotional from seeing Felicia, and it likely didn’t mean anything _near_ what he was hoping for.

Besides, he still needed to get everything inside. He was grateful that Nile and Booker had still made most of the trip, so Joe only had to drive an hour away to meet them. Nile, of course, was the one most upset, tearful even after the long drive, and hoping Nicky wasn’t too distraught. Joe answered honestly, that he really didn’t know, but promised they could video chat later if he felt up to it on his phone. He had hoped to get Nicky’s phone back to him already, but it looked like the authorities were holding onto it through the weekend. Joe figured that when he brought Nicky to meet the officers assigned to his case on Monday, that they could work something out about it then. 

Then afterwards, Nile and Nicky could spend some time together before she would be heading out for her month long training. With plans established, but not wanting to leave Nicky alone for long, they made their goodbyes, and Joe drove around an extra half hour _just in case_ he was being tailed. 

Looking into his car, it really wasn't all that much: one duffle bag of clothes, a small toiletry bag, and the six plants. It would take him two trips to the car tops. But he had also picked them up a late lunch, and figured he’d bring that in first. 

When he made his way inside, his eyes immediately shifted over to Nicky sitting on the couch, his legs tucked under him and snuggling Felicia close to his chest. His cheek was resting against the top of her head, and they both had their eyes closed. If he knew he wouldn’t have minded it, Joe would have taken a picture.   
  
He placed the food containers on the counter as quietly as he could, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but he heard Nicky’s quiet voice behind him, “Thank you.” 

Joe turned around, and saw Nicky’s already more relaxed face giving him a soft smile. He returned it, but couldn’t help but think that bringing a cat to him seemed to pale in comparison to all the other things he would do for him.   
  
He walked over to the couch, kneeling down beside the arm rest, and debated once again to admit just how deeply he cared about him. But he decided to keep the moment light, and glided his own hand over the back of Felicia’s head. She was able to tell the difference between Nicky’s touch and his, and looked over at him, dubious as to why he was giving her attention, too. He gave her a coy smirk, lightly scratching behind her ear, “I've never had a pet before, hopefully she'll be patient with me.”   
  
Nicky smiled, one of those dazzling ones that lit up his whole face, and Joe watched it from the corner of his eyes, “She's very kind, and patient.” Then he adjusted her in his arms, and gazed down at her softly, “And she means so much to me because -” He paused, and Joe lowered his hand to the arm of the couch, curious to hear what Nicky might say. He was woefully unprepared when he continued, “The last gift my mom gave me before she passed was a kitten.” He lowered his face to her fur, and Felicia purred, “Felicia is a kitten from that kitten.”   
  
_‘Oh’_ , Joe realized the significance of that last remaining physical link between Nicky and his mother. No less important than his mother’s plants he would line up momentarily nearby, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize earlier how important she was.”   
  
Nicky shook his head gently, “How could you when I never told you?” He leaned back against the couch, running his hand over Felicia’s back, “Thank you for allowing her here.”   
  
_‘You’ve got to stop thanking me so much for the simplest things, I owe you so much more,’_ but instead of saying that out loud, Joe rose to his feet to grab the rest of the things, “I brought some lunch, and just as soon as I grab everything we can eat?”   
  
Nicky beamed up at him, and Joe wished he could just bend over and kiss him on the cheek, too. But he turned before he gave into that feeling. 

  
  


* * *

Right after Joe had lined up the plants, and declared he just needed to grab the two bags, Felicia hopped out of Nicky’s arms, more than eager to explore the space. He felt more relieved already, and knowing he would get to snuggle with her at night, Nicky let her roam the area, while he made his way over to the kitchen. The food smelled delicious, and with everything Joe had done, he figured the least he could do was dish it out on plates for them. He wasn’t sure if Joe would prefer eating at the island or on the couch, but once he brought in the bags, and placed them against the back of the couch, he suggested they eat at the coffee table.

Between watching Felicia meander around the space, and the food in his belly, Nicky found his energy beginning to return. 

Joe talked about the drive, and about the plans for Monday, and Nicky was more than excited to call her momentarily. He knew the chat might be emotionally exhausting, but things needed to be said, and if Nile wanted to talk about them, he’d answer her questions. Though he didn’t plan on telling her about his nightmare earlier. He hoped it was just a one time thing, brought on by bad anxiety, and unprocessed feelings.   
  
When Joe was done, he put the plate on the coffee table nearby, and leaned back against the couch, one arm bent near his head, “Nicky, I wanted to ask you something.”   
  
Even though he had finished his food, he wished he was still holding his plate so he’d have something to fumble with, he didn’t like Joe’s hesitant tone, “About?”   
  
“I figure we need to talk about Keane being out, and _why_ he’s out right now,” Joe shifted his eyes from Nicky’s wide eyes, down to his fidgety hands, “But I wanted to ask if you’d like to save that conversation for tomorrow?”   
  
_‘Yes, please, I cannot deal with Keane tonight’_ , he shook his head, “I’d prefer waiting.”   
  
“I figured as much,” Joe ran his hand over the back of his head, and Nicky’s own fingers twitched because now he knew what his hair _felt_ like and he wanted to touch the strands again, “I’m sorry about earlier, I just wanted to be honest with you. I didn’t want to hide that Keane was out, and to explain why we would need to be extra cautious about leaving my place.” And then Joe raised his eyes to his, “No more secrets, you know?”   
  
Nicky felt a little guilty, because he had been so worried earlier about Nile, and Felicia, that he hadn’t really considered things from Joe’s angle. He was making an effort, and Nicky wanted to reciprocate, “I understand. No more secrets, promise.”   
  
There was a look that passed over Joe’s face, and Nicky wondered if he saw right through him, if he could _tell_ how he hadn’t been doing so well earlier. As embarrassing as it might be to admit to, he had just promised not to keep secrets either, “I - I still want to sleep on the couch tonight. And I think having Felicia will help. But - do you think you could stay with me till I fall asleep again?”   
  
If Joe asked why, he’d admit to the nightmare earlier, but thankfully he didn’t. Simply agreed silently, and reached for the plates, “Why don’t you call Nile, and I’ll find us a movie to watch?”   
  
Nicky grinned, relieved, “Deal.” 

* * *

Once Nicky had the door closed to his bedroom, Joe let out a deep exhale as he closed his eyes and leaned over the sink. The sounds of the water rushing down against the clattering silverware did absolutely _nothing_ to help, and he felt the slight tremble in his forearms from gripping the edge of the counter so hard.

 _Fuck_ , how he hated that word, _‘promise’._

 _Fuck_ , how it still messed with his head almost two decades later.

* * *

**NOTES:** SEEEEE how hard it was for me not spoil things in the comments with the last chapter?? This whole fic is outlined, and planned out through the friggin epilogue, and it was _always_ going to be Joe who saved the day and brought Felicia to Nicky so I just wanted to be like, _"I promise he cares!!"_ haha. Also, more truths revealed in this chapter! Like Felicia being a kitten from the kitten his mom bought him?! How precious!!  
  
Any guesses though as to why Joe has a thing about water, and around the word 'promise'? Anybody notice he hasn't the used the word once in this entire fic? <<;  
  
And eek, I am so sorry that with my writing style I have somehow managed to turn this into some weird Victorian porno of sexual tension where it took _100 EFFIN K_ words to get us a flipping _peck on the cheek_ . . . I promise starting with the next update we will be FULLY earning that explicit rating and things will move quickllllyyyy. And okay, there's some emotional angst as they unpack things in their respective backstories, but NO more big surprises for a _few_ chapters. Just tender, comfort, (*cough* sex *cough*) and support - and hand to God, Keane WILL NOT SHOW UP AT JOE'S PLACE. They're safe there! <3

Lastly, though of course this is a work of fiction, so liberties are taken - I tried to be fairly accurate when it came to Keane's charges. I used both federal kidnapping penal codes, and California state penal codes as resources, and criminology studies for the rest. As for virtual hearings, that is a thing when it comes to incapacitated defendants, but is currently even more common thanks to the pandemic (though this fic isn't set during covid or anything). And in case I get asked in the comments as to why Nicky (or really anyone) would not be notified of Keane making bail - unfortunately unless Nicky asked at the scene to be notified (and even that is not guaranteed), there is no legal requirement to notify a victim (unless there's a harassment/restraining order, previous request, or someone making parole after time served). Of course there can always be exceptions to all of these issues, but I tried keeping it as accurate as possible from general terms.  
  
 **AS FOR WHAT'S COMING UP NEXT:** we will get _Day Three through Day Seven_ of bonding, sexual tension and _some things shift_ . . . brace yourself for the flirting, and _WAIT are those thigh tattoos??_ and ALL THE COMFORTTTT <3 See you Wednesday :)


	11. Day Three Through Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Nicky try to settle into some semblance of a routine.  
> But the more comfortable they get, the closer they become -  
> and it makes them both consider things they had been trying to deny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry I'm like half a day behind on posting this week, but I was a little late getting Luz the chapter to beta, and make sure to show her some love because she still got to it today so you guys could have it! <3
> 
> Quick heads up that this chapter WILL earn that explicit rating towards the end for sexual themes (you're going to LOVE me for about five minutes, and then HATE me) - but no spoilers, I'll meet you at the end notes.
> 
> Also, there is mention of nightmares, and Nicky struggling with that, but not like a fake out scene that we had in the last chapter - but figured I'd mention that! The first nightmare is Nicky reflecting on Keane trying to rip his clothes off (does not get more descriptive than that!). The second one towards the end has him waking up from the nightmare, but it's a bit mild panic attack sounding (like physically descriptive of how he's feeling afterwards). Okay, I think that's it for warnings <<;
> 
> AND this chapter is worded slightly differently than previous ones in that instead of doing like a full day from beginning to end, I focused on snippets of the day - one, because I figured Nicky is sort of processing things here and there and likely spending a lot of time just like sitting with his feelings - but two, because this puppy is already 11k long, and I figured we stick to the main highlights of each day to keep it from getting any longer ;)

* * *

“I wish I could show you, when you are lonely, or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” - Hafiz

* * *

  
  
  


_Day Three - Sunday_

Nicky hadn’t meant to sleep in so long again.  
  
Yesterday had turned out to be more emotionally draining than he had anticipated and he was beyond exhausted by the evening. With Joe’s comforting presence beside him he managed to fall asleep fairly quickly, grateful for no tears, or nightmares. He had felt the couch shift when Joe went to his own room, but Nicky snuggled Felicia closer, and easily went back to sleep.   
  
He could smell the late breakfast Joe was already making, and Nicky promised himself that by evening time he was going to make dinner. One, because he felt bad for how much Joe was taking care of him, and two, because cooking actually helped him to relax. He rubbed his left eye with the palm of his hand, while Felicia stretched her own body before hopping down onto the floor.   
  
By the time he sat up, Joe was already walking over with two plates, giving him a casual smile before they ate together on the couch in comfortable silence. But he knew they still needed to talk about yesterday, so after moving his plate onto the coffee table, Nicky asked him about what had happened with Keane, and what that meant in terms of the future. Joe did his best to explain in a calm manner, but every now and then Nicky watched as his jaw clenched, or his fingers tightened over his knees. His frustration with Keane’s ability to be walking around already only grew when he shared that so far, no one knew where he was.   
  
“Shouldn’t someone know where he is at all times?”   
  
Joe practically grumbled, “‘Innocent till proven guilty’ means he gets to make bail and walk around till the trial.”   
  
Nicky shifted his eyes towards his own hands. They seemed a little shaky, but he felt he was managing to hold it together fairly well all things considered, “When is the trial?”   
  
Joe inhaled a deep breath, before sighing, “They haven’t assigned a date yet, but I doubt before a month or two from now.” When Nicky lifted his gaze, Joe was already staring, those dark eyes scanning his face and silently asking _‘are you okay?’_   
  
In order to really answer that silent question, Nicky cycled through the scenarios as quickly as possible: what if he got the harassment order tomorrow that Joe had suggested? What if Keane violated it? What if he showed up here? What if his nightmare yesterday was more of a prophecy? What if he was alone again in a room with him? . . . And it was that last possibility that made the tremble in his hands roam up along his arms. 

“Joe,” he peered back at him, hoping his voice didn’t sound as desperate as he felt, “would you teach me some self defense?”  
  
Joe looked like he was about to shake his head ‘no’. Maybe even try to point out that he would keep him safe, and that there was no need, so long they stayed together. But then his eyes roamed over to his cheek, where the tear from the assault was scabbing over, and Nicky knew what he was thinking. Watched the sadness gloss over the gaze from the truth that neither wanted to address: Keane had still managed to get to him. And though Nicky didn’t blame him for that, he was surprised when Joe glanced away, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”   
  
He felt utterly confused. How could knowing how to protect himself be a bad thing? “Why not?”   
  
“You just went through something traumatic,” Joe reasoned, “and I’m worried some of it could make you uncomfortable, or trigger you?”   
  
Nicky could appreciate how much Joe wanted to keep him comfortable, but easily countered with a soft smile, “Let’s do something light then, like show me how to break zip ties, or something.”   
  
“What?” Joe let out a surprised laugh, and it helped break the tension, “Should I show you to jump out of a moving car, too?”   
  
“If you think it would help -” he managed to cut himself off before saying _‘next time’_ , but Joe heard it all the same. Sensed what he was implying with the way he paused in his words. 

“Okay,” Joe swiped his hands over his legs, and began to stand up from the couch, “Go change, and I’ll meet you on the back porch.”  
  
Nicky had half expected Joe to argue against it more, but certainly wasn’t going to give him the chance to change his mind by any perceived hesitancy on his end. He rose to his feet, and headed towards Joe’s bedroom where he kept his dufflebag of clothes beside his closet. Figuring that jeans would be too stiff to maneuver around in depending on what Joe had in mind, he settled for loose slacks, and began to look for a long sleeved shirt. It was hot outside, but the finger bruises were still on his upper arms, and he didn’t want Joe to see them.   
  
Shuffling through various items, he finally pulled out a silk button down, and left several top buttons undone for air flow. He doubted Joe would turn it into a boot camp session, but just in case, he put on his converse sneakers as well.   
  


* * *

  
Joe didn’t _love_ the idea of Nicky possibly feeling like he needed to learn self defense, but could rationalize that was because he selfishly wanted to believe he could do it for him. But it was unrealistic to keep him locked away in his house until his money ran out, and as painful as it was to admit, Nicky _had_ been hurt even with him on the job. Besides, tomorrow they’d be leaving the property for half the day, and if learning a few moves helped Nicky feel less anxious about it, then he’d do it.   
  
When Nicky stepped out, he seemed downright eager to start. He walked right up to him, but blinked at Joe’s empty hands, “No zip ties then?”

Joe grinned so hard, his cheeks dimpled, “How about we save a little something for tomorrow?”  
  
“Wait,” Nicky’s eyes lit up with realization, “you know how to get out of those?”   
  
“Not as hard as you’d think,” Joe shrugged, “You tighten them with your teeth, then slam your arms down, and out like this -” He demonstrated the downwards trajectory, widening the space between his wrists as if snapping an imaginary restraint, “The tension from the move breaks it.”   
  
“I’m glad you’re training me,” Nicky’s lips curved into a smile, “you seem to know what you’re doing.”   
  
Joe stated it really was just how thorough the TOG training was, “they want to make sure we can help someone if we get restrained ourselves.” He gestured between them, “Zip ties, duct tape -”   
  
Nicky’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “Tomorrow could include zip ties, _and_ duct tape?”   
  
Joe could see the smirk on Nicky’s face like he was trying to joke about it, but there was absolutely _no_ way he was going to restrain him (even in practice), after what he had been through just days earlier. But he kept the mood light, “Let’s see how a few basic moves go today first.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Nicky shoved his hands in his back pocket, and Joe got an eyeful of that lovely chest of his peeking out from the top of his slightly undone shirt, “where do you want me?”

Shit if his dick didn’t actually _twitch_ at the words. Joe swallowed, and took a step back, “Here is fine.” 

Joe figured he’d start with something easy first, a basic elbow strike. Nicky turned in his direction, standing beside him, and mimicked the move he made. The first two were clumsy, and unsure, but after Joe encouraged him to throw some weight into it the next few looked more controlled, “We’ll try a horizontal strike first.”  
  
It was similar to a hook punch, where Joe would twist his torso and pivot on the front foot, “Use the forearm side of your elbow for the impact point.”   
  
He could tell Nicky felt silly doing it when Joe was watching him so seriously, but he did fairly well in aligning his whole body properly. They then moved onto both the reverse, and vertical elbow punch next, practicing several times beside one another, before Joe took a step in front of him, “Alright, try not to break my nose.”   
  
“What?” Nicky lowered his hands between them, “You want me to try to hit you?”   
  
“Would really like you to _not_ hit me, please,” Joe teased, before raising loose fists in front of him, “Do a controlled move, but pause before impact.”   
  
Nicky didn’t seem so certain about the idea, but swung anyway, not aiming properly since he had closed his eyes. Joe shifted back when he realized Nicky wasn’t paying attention to the aim, worried he was about to actually strike him. Unfortunately it only made him stumble over his own two feet. Joe had tried to reach for him, but by the time he caught his wrist, half his body had already slammed down onto the wood porch and he yelped at the impact. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault, it was merely an accident of Nicky’s own momentum in a clumsy move, but he still wanted to apologize. He lowered his eyes away from his surprised face, meaning to say it, when instead he caught sight of a dark blue bruise with yellow undertones on Nicky’s stomach from where his shirt had shifted from the fall. His fingers tightened around his wrist, and his other hand began to reach forward, “Nicky -”  
  
He moved quickly, shoving his free hand over the shirt, and tugging on the hem to cover the sight of it, “Don’t -” His voice sounded strained, not scared, or defensive, but a quiet plea for Joe not to talk about it.   
  
But how could he not? Waves of anger and sadness crashed against him, and he hovered even as Nicky scrambled to his feet. At least he didn’t pull his wrist away from him, and Joe had no intention of letting go either, “Let me see?”   
  
Nicky kept his gaze down, seemingly unsure, and Joe understood if he didn’t want to talk about it. He hoped one day he would feel comfortable enough to tell him, but wasn’t going to force him to. But there was something else he needed to point out, “Did they get pictures of that on Friday?”   
  
He shook his head ‘no’, and Joe closed his eyes for a moment, worried, “Please let me then, for the trial? We need every piece of evidence we can get for the jury to understand what happened. I can send them to the officers assigned to your case.” Nicky wouldn’t raise his eyes to him, but silently agreed, finally pulling his hand away from Joe to unbutton his shirt.

Joe reached for his phone from his pocket, but even having braced himself for the sight of the bruise on the stomach, he was unprepared for the bruises on his arms. Nicky kept his head down, but Joe could see the tension in his broad shoulders, and tight fists. He didn’t want to do this, and Joe moved as quickly as he could to help the moment pass by quicker.   
  
As he stepped towards his side, to get a more detailed shot of the arms, Joe spotted the scabs on his back. The rough tears on his skin that had stitched back together, but the long, pink lines, were likely much smaller than what they had been. Joe silently took pictures of them as well, trying not to allow the emotions to get the better of him, he felt like he could beat Keane all over again. 

“Are you done?”   
  
Joe heard the pain in his words, the tears he was holding back, and he lowered the phone between them, “Yes.”   
  
Nicky hurriedly bent down to grab his shirt, quickly putting it back on to hide the awful truth of just how bad it had gotten before Joe showed up. His fingers curled tightly around his phone, “You know you can talk to me about - ”   
  
“I don’t -” Nicky immediately replied, before his throat seemingly clamped around the emotions. He shakily buttoned the last button of his shirt, trying to make himself sound calmer, “Thank you, but no, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Joe wasn’t sure what else to say, how he could even begin to help, but they were obviously done for today when it came to the training. He suggested they could resume it in a few more days, when he was _‘more healed’_ , and Nicky nodded without looking back at him. 

He headed back into the house without saying another word, and Joe remained outside for another ten minutes, trying to breathe around the pain and anger.

* * *

Nicky didn’t change out of his clothes. Even though there was some relief around Joe knowing the full extent of things, it didn’t make him feel any better. He still felt the need to make himself small curling into the couch, and holding Felicia close. Joe, thankfully, didn’t press him for details, simply moved around him quietly as he read, or made himself a snack.

A little later he took an extra long bath, hiding under the water as long as his lungs allowed. But after he emerged from the bathroom, Nicky ran his fingers over his damp hair and offered to make lunch. He had originally planned for the dinner, and maybe he’d do that, too . . .  
  
Joe naturally tried saying he didn’t have to, especially not as some sort of attempt at _‘earning his keep’_ , but once he explained it would help his nerves, he relented easily. 

“What would you like?” Nicky had already pulled open the fridge to see what ingredients he could whip together for a meal.  
  
“Anything, really,” Joe replied, and he could hear him crossing the room to take a seat at the island.   
  
Nicky found himself smiling softly at the familiarity of himself in the kitchen, and Joe sitting behind him while he cooked. He pulled out some vegetables, and opened the pantry for some dry pasta noodles. With everything arranged in front of him, he paused and glanced over his shoulder towards Joe. He didn’t raise his eyes to his, but could tell he was staring at him, “Thank you by the way.”   
  
“For what?”   
  
Nicky turned back to the stove, and put the pan on the burner for the vegetables, “For not asking me to talk about it before I’m ready to.”   
  
There was a long pause, like Joe was contemplating his reply, “I’m here if you do decide to.”   
  
Nicky turned the knob to preheat the pan, trying not to read past his obvious kindness. But still his words felt soothing and he grinned, almost hoping Joe could hear it in his voice, even if he was facing away from him, “I know.” 

  
  


* * *

  
The rest of the day had gone smoother, at least Joe hoped so.   
  
He kept glancing over at Nicky, wishing he could once again read his mind, and watched him for any signs of discomfort as the hours ticked away. He seemed to retreat fairly easily into his own little world, either reading one of Joe’s books, watching a movie, or even just laying down with his cat. A part of Joe wished he could follow him to wherever he hid within the recesses of his own mind.   
  
He could appreciate that the house was small, and Joe wondered if Nicky might like having the space to himself for the evening. After the sun had set, he shared that he planned on spending some time in his studio loft upstairs (of course he didn’t tell Nicky he was unlikely to actually _do_ anything with the art materials, but he didn’t need to know that). He offered to set up a movie for him, and flick on the switch for the gas fireplace underneath the mounted tv, hoping some time to himself might help him relax. He was willing to try just about anything.   
  
When Nicky mentioned just the fireplace, but that he’d finish his book instead, Joe walked over to flip the switch. He stared down at the flickering flames behind the glass panel, “I’m glad you get to see Nile tomorrow.”   
  
“Me too,” Nicky sounded tired already, but there was a happiness to his voice that pushed through his grogginess, “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”   
  
“Nine,” he pushed away from the wall, making his way across the living room, and towards the steps beside the couch, “Might be good to get a few hours away from here, some fresh air.”   
  
Nicky chuckled and Joe paused before taking the first step, unsure where that came from, “You act like we’re in lockdown.”   
  
_‘Well we sort of are, aren’t we?’_ Joe wanted to counter, but when he looked down at Nicky, his gaze softened at how clear, and bright his eyes stared back up at him, _‘you don’t feel stuck, trapped, like this is a prison, that you want to bolt at the first opportunity you can find?’_   
  
He was afraid to ask, afraid of the answer, and Nicky turned his face away, though Joe could see the soft smile tugging at his lips, “I don’t feel trapped here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”   
  
_‘That was one of them,’_ Joe angled his body away from the steps, leaning back against the wall, “I’m glad to hear that.”   
  
Nicky peered over in his direction, but didn’t raise his eyes, “I’m glad I’m here.”   
  
“Me too,” Joe was relieved to hear it, before he turned towards the steps, “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”   
  
Nicky gave him a silent nod, but Joe could tell he was likely going to be asleep soon. The last couple of days had been a lot, and the man deserved the extra sleep with all the things he was likely trying to process.   
  
Once he reached the loft, Joe pulled out an old sketchbook just in case Nicky meandered upstairs at some point, and sat down in the chair close to the high windows. The sun had set a while ago, but there was just enough light from the horizon to allow him to draw something without having to turn the lamp on. He opened the book to a blank page, and stared out at the sky, seeing the faded moon beginning to shine brighter as the sun set further away. It made him think of his mother, and how she referred to her children as her own small suns, bright and warm stars that she tended to orbit around.   
  
Joe had felt guilty about not answering his mother’s call that morning, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to explain what had happened on Friday, or the fact that Nicky was now staying with him. She had already teased him, just like everybody else, that Nicky obviously meant _something_ to him, but hearing that he was essentially living with him now - and the why behind it . . . he didn’t know where to begin, or how much he should share. His mother already worried so much about him, and was counting down the days till he returned home. Hearing how dangerous things _had_ been, _could_ have been, just days earlier might get him an earful from her.

He resolved to call her later, when he was certain Nicky was in a deep sleep, though how much he’d actually share with her he wasn’t sure.   
  
Joe hadn’t planned on drawing, but found himself absentmindedly sketching a rough outline of Nicky as the moon rose higher in view. He doubted it did him all that much justice, a poor imitation of the real thing, but as he began to fill in more details, Joe reflected on all those poems he grew up with.

How if he was like the sun, maybe Nicky was like the moon, floating in the dark so silently, and steadfast. His smile was illuminating, even with the darkness that was around him, and though he had passed through phases of loss and grief (and now this, too), he was still whole. 

But if that’s what they were - he the sun, and Nicky, the moon - Joe wondered if their paths would ever cross beyond the eclipse that darkened everything in sight. If once they had to step back out in the real world, outside of this space, if everything would shift again. Joe on one end, Nicky on the other, unable to reach each other. 

He just wanted things to be better for Nicky than they had been. 

And he hoped tomorrow would help. 

* * *

_Day Four - Monday_

_Coffee Shop - an hour away_

It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even halfway over.  
  
Joe and Nicky had headed out early, but the drive was long, even with the officers willing to meet them halfway. Nicky hadn’t explained why he didn’t want him there when he gave his full statement, and Joe didn’t press. It likely meant that Keane had done things he didn’t want Joe to know about and he was trying to respect his privacy, and keep calm while he waited in the car. He had sent the photos ahead of their arrival, and Nicky said he was given a court date of two months from then, as well as a temporary harassment order that was good till the evidentiary hearing. With nothing more to do, and Nicky more than eager to just to get Nile already, Joe thanked the officers personally, before driving another half hour to a small coffee shop that Booker was bringing her to. It might have seemed overly cautious, but no one had been able to trace Keane’s whereabouts yet, and Joe wasn’t going to take a chance by bringing Nicky any closer to the city than they already were.   
  
The only moment of true happiness came when Nile hurriedly rushed out of the car, and practically leapt into Nicky’s open arms. Joe and Booker hung back, taking a table several feet away, and quietly watched them sit beside one another, arms looped together and Nile resting her cheek against Nicky’s shoulder.   
  
Just a month ago Joe had watched them like that, two friends enjoying their coffees and chatting casually. _Just a month_ \- that felt like a lifetime ago.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicky had just finished his iced coffee, and sighed as he sank further back against the iron chair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he could care less. He was basking in the sunshine, relishing having Nile near him, and closed his eyes for a moment, utterly content. Their phone call the other night helped answer some of her immediate questions, but it had been so emotionally draining, that both agreed to focus the conversation on other topics for their meetup. Like how Nile was going away for a month, and outside of a few calls here and there, they wouldn’t be able to see each other while she did her basic training. 

However, Nicky was awfully distracted by the feel of Joe’s eyes roaming over him. And when Nile lifted her head to speak, he didn’t even register it till far too late. She had caught him glancing back over at Joe _again_ , and did not miss the chance to move their discussion from her, to him, “You know you keep looking over at Joe, as if to make sure he’s still there.” She waved over at him, and Joe gave her a sly grin in return, like he somehow read her lips from afar (and oh how he hoped he hadn’t). But once he returned to his conversation with Booker, she shifted her gaze to Nicky, “I doubt he’s going to let you out of his sight anytime soon.”   
  
Nicky nibbled on his straw, even though there was only froth from the whipped cream at the bottom of the cup, “I don’t want him to.”   
  
“Because of Keane?” Nile stilled as soon as she realized she had brought him up, and instantly apologized. 

Nicky shook his head, “No, it’s not that.” He raised his lips away from the straw, ducking his face a little closer to hers, “I maybe don’t want him to let me out of his sight. I think I like him looking at me.”  
  
Nile pulled back, raising a curious eyebrow, “Have you told him that?”   
  
“No,” Nicky immediately replied, as if that suggestion was downright ludicrous. 

“Why not?” she playfully huffed, and Nicky hoped her voice didn’t carry over.  
  
He spoke quietly, hoping she’d do the same, “I don’t think _now_ is the time to have some sort of hook up.”   
  
Nile teased him with a coy smile as she leaned in closer, likely finding his need for hushed tones unnecessary, “Is that you want with Joe, a hook up?”   
  
“No, but it’s more complicated than that,” he looked down, grateful to have her to talk about this, because he really didn’t know what to do about it.   
  
Nile rested her head against his shoulder again, “How so?”   
  
“I don’t really do the morning after routine,” he answered honestly, “and we’re basically living together for seven more weeks.”   
  
“And?”   
  
She was really going to make him walk through the whole possible worst case scenario. He sighed, and put the cup on the table, interlocking his fingers, “What if _something_ happens, and he gets tired of me before the seven weeks is up? It could get real awkward.”   
  
Nile sounded downright confused, “You think he’ll tire of you?”   
  
“Maybe not _tire_ , but get annoyed?” he paused, because he didn’t really want to admit why he was worried about it, but she was going to be gone for a month, and maybe he needed to talk about it, “I mean, I have a lot of baggage.”   
  
Nile instantly lifted her head, and narrowed her eyes at him, “That’s not on you - “   
  
“I know, I _know_ , but it’s still a lot, and then there’s my anxiety and - “ _‘I worry that it will just be too much for him. I’ll be too much for him.’_ _  
_   
Nile waited for him to continue, but when he couldn’t find the will to, she softly curled her fingers over his joined hands, “Nicky, I feel like I’m pointing out the obvious here, _but_ Joe already knows all these things about you, and is _still_ here.”   
  
“Because it’s his job,” he mumbled.   
  
Even though her voice was soft, her tone was somehow firm, like she was practically chastising him, “If you genuinely believe that anything Joe is doing for you right now is simply because it’s his ‘job’, then I fear the chlorine from those late night pool dips has seeped into your brain.”   
  
Nicky rolled his eyes, “Ha _ha_ .”   
  
“I’m just saying, I think you should give him a chance,” she gave his hand one more squeeze, because they both knew she needed to get going soon, “He sees you, and is still here.”

Nicky pulled his hands out from under her, and wrapped them around hers, grateful for her insight but he couldn’t push the nagging indecision away.   
  
“I love you.”   
  
Nicky tucked his chin close to his chest, “Ditto.”   
  


* * *

  
  


Later that night, after he was certain Joe was asleep, Nicky took his phone out of the evidence bag the officers had given him earlier. He had been charging it beside the sofa, but now unplugged it to turn it on, and allow himself to listen to the messages Nile said she had left him on Friday. He figured it would be hard, but he would need to go through them at some point. And alone on the sofa, with Felicia snuggled up beside him, felt as good as time as any.   
  
At least if he started crying, it wouldn’t be in front of Joe again. 

It took a few minutes, but once the phone finished chiming the alerts, Nicky picked it up and took a deep breath at the numerous notifications. He started with Nile’s first:  
  


4:38pm  
 _Nicky, Joe says he can’t reach you - he sounds pretty upset, can you call him please?_ _  
  
_

4:39pm  
 _U there?_   
  


4:40pm  
 **Missed Call**   
  


4:45pm  
 _What’s going on?_ _  
_ _Please call me back._

  
4:48pm   
**Missed Call**

  
4:55pm   
_I’m heading to your house and Joe is panicking, please call us!_   
  
5:25pm

_No one is telling me what’s going on, your Dad won’t talk to me._

5:32pm  
 _I’m staying here till you get home_

  
6:03pm

 **Missed Call**

6:46pm

**Missed Call**

7:32pm

 **Missed Call**   
  
8:17pm   
_Oh God, Nicky - Booker just came by._

_I’m so sorry, so sorry!_

8:22pm  
 _They say you won’t have your phone for a while, but just in case this through to you - I love you, and I’ll be here when you can call me. I’m so sorry._

Nicky pulled the phone close to his chest, gliding his hand over Felicia’s back and reminding himself that Nile was okay earlier. She was happy to see him, no longer worried about him, no longer scared, that the fear and panic he read in her messages were past tense. Tears did sting his eyes, but he took another deep breath, and moved onto Joe’s messages:

4:27pm

_Hey Nicky, just pulled up, ready whenever you are._

  
4:32pm   
**Missed Call**

5:08 pm  
 **Missed Call**   
  
And then silence, there were no more messages, and curiosity got the better of him. 

He clicked on his voicemail box to hear Joe’s messages first.  
  
 _‘First message: ‘Hey Nicky, I just texted you, but maybe you didn’t see it. I’m parked out here, but it’s raining pretty bad, so I’ll unlock the door and you can try to jump into the back okay?’_ Joe laughed lightly, and Nicky smiled at the sound of hearing it against his ear.   
  
_‘Second message: ‘Nicky.’_ Joe’s voice sounded strained, nothing like his first message and Nicky closed his eyes at the stark difference in tone: _‘I’m fifteen minutes away, and I know that whoever is doing this isn’t letting you have your phone, but I need you to know I’m right behind you. I’m going to catch up, and when I do - you have my word, that when I do, whatever it takes, I’m going to fix this. I’m so sorry, Nicky.’_   
  
He couldn’t listen to Nile’s increasingly panicked messages after hearing that. The text messages, and Joe’s voicemails were enough to allow the tears that had blurred his vision, to fall freely as he pulled Felicia into his lap. She didn’t seem all that bothered, resettling into the space between his crossed legs easily, and Nicky turned his phone off so he wouldn’t read the same messages over and over again.   
  
Even now, he realized that Joe was still behind him. Still trying to catch up. Still trying to fix things. And he felt terribly guilty for the burden of what Joe was trying to carry. It wasn’t his responsibility to fix this. He was doing enough, _more_ than enough, more than he _needed_ to. And maybe Nile was right. Maybe that was because Nicky meant more to him than just a job.

It ended up taking him an hour to move from the couch, but he figured a cup of tea might help with the last remnants of his shaky nerves. It was close to two in the morning, and the house was dark and silent while he shuffled his way to the kitchen. He was tired, but more emotionally than physically, and wasn’t really paying attention as he fumbled through the cabinets looking for the large tin Joe preferred to keep his tea in.  
  
Nicky had somehow managed to shove his hand at _just_ the right angle when he had found it, that it now flung out, bouncing on the counter with a _loud_ echo, before _crashing_ onto the wood floor. It startled Nicky, and he stumbled back, balancing against the edge of the counter as he stared down at the various bags flung around the tin, _‘cazzo’_ .   
  
He could hear Joe rushing to his bedroom door, no doubt having been woken up by the sounds, and Nicky felt terribly embarrassed since Joe was likely on high alert with everything that had happened. He almost sheepishly looked up, ready to apologize profusely, when his eyes widened at the sight of Joe standing at the edge of the hallway.   
  
The dim light shined behind him, but Joe stood there equally wide eyed and wearing _nothing_ but a pair of briefs. 

Nicky allowed himself a _long_ look, because though he had suspected the kind of body that he was keeping under those clothes, his imagination had _not_ done it justice. Joe was not just in shape, he was _defined,_ and his limbs locked tensely, the muscles taut under his tan skin. He scanned the room, seemingly still waking up, but determined to find out what happened, “Is everything alright?”   
  
Nicky roamed down, meaning to look _away_ once Joe’s eyes moved towards him, but that only allowed him a _better_ view of his lower half. And those briefs did not hide the generous package he was sporting, or the thigh tattoos that were peeking out from under the hem of the fabric. Cursive letters that he couldn’t read, but _fuck_ if Nicky didn’t feel like he could _crawl_ over to the man, and trace them with his tongue . . . “Nicky?”

Nicky really didn’t want to lift his eyes away, but Joe seemed more awake now, and had to realize _exactly_ what he had been staring at, “I dropped the tea tin, sorry.”   
  
“Ah, sorry, I rushed out thinking all sorts of things,” but with no real emergency, Joe began to turn away to head back to his room and Nicky wondered if he was hearing a teasing tone to his voice when he mumbled his reply, “I’m just glad I remembered to put on briefs.”   
  
Nicky stood alone in the dark kitchen, with only one thought flashing to the forefront of his mind: _‘as in, you sleep nude?’_

It wasn’t until he heard Joe’s bedroom door close that he was jostled out of his thoughts, and blinked down at the tin can near his feet. It was going to be a long night. 

  
  
  


* * *

_Day Five - Tuesday_

The next morning, Nicky got up before Joe (though that had more to do with the restless tossing and turning he did through most of the night). 

But since he was, Nicky decided to make a more thorough breakfast than the eggs and toast Joe liked to stick to. He handed him a plated dish at the island when he heard Joe walk over, trying his best not to imagine what was just beneath the loose clothes he was wearing. Otherwise he might just have to take his _second_ cold shower if Joe planned on bringing it up. 

Because if they _did_ talk about it, Nicky was really hoping he’d tell him what his tattoos said. Frankly, the thought of _those_ were a _much_ better distraction than the recollection of Joe’s sad message on his phone. 

Nicky was already making his own plate, when Joe asked him if he was still interested in some self defense training. He was pleasantly surprised by the question, since he had hoped they could resume it. He balanced the plate on the palm of his hand, and forked at the hash browns he had fried up, “What did you have in mind?”

Joe had already finished his plate, and crossed his arms to lean on his elbows, “I figured we’d wait on the hand to hand combat a little longer, but what do you think about guns in general?”  
  
 _‘That they taste horrible’_ , but he figured he shouldn’t mention _that_ , so Nicky stuck with another aspect of the truth, “I uh, never used one.”   
  
Surely Joe wouldn’t begrudge him from wanting to steer clear of them with what had happened, but he actually appreciated that he hadn’t made assumptions about it either. He liked that he was asking him, “Want to learn?”   
  
Nicky tipped his head slightly, pondering for a moment, before smiling, “Yeah, I do.”   
  
Thirty minutes later, Joe had set up the backyard for target practice, insisting on safety goggles and earmuffs (which Nicky felt absolutely ridiculous in), before he opened up a small lock box to produce a gun.   
  
He watched Nicky’s face for any sort of uncomfortability, but he didn’t feel as bothered by it as either of them had assumed he would. He didn’t want to be afraid of all guns, just certain people who wielded them. Joe gave him some general instructions on how to hold it, and where to aim and then took a step back to let him practice.   
  
Nicky closed one eye, held the gun firmly between both hands, and moved his index finger over the trigger. And when he fired the first round, he had braced himself for more of a kickback, but felt it surprisingly easy to handle. Even better, he had managed to hit the edge of the paper target, and Joe lifted his hands in front of him, “What?!”   
  
Nicky moved his index finger away from the trigger, like Joe had told him to when he wasn’t aiming, and lowered the gun beside him, “Well it’s not bullseye or anything.”   
  
Joe shook his head, “Aim for the other four and let’s see what happens?”   
  
Nicky huffed around a smirk, before he raised the gun back up to aim. He took a deep breath, then moved from one target to the next, and sure enough with each hit - he made it closer and _closer_ . On the fourth round, he hit the bullseye, and Joe ran a hand over his hair. At first he looked over at the targets in disbelief, but his grin only got bigger, “You - Nicky, you are a _natural_ with that aim. You could be a sniper.”

  
  


* * *

Joe couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  
  
Nicky managed to hit a bullseye from twenty feet away, by the _fourth_ try. He stared at the physical evidence of his natural talent, while Nicky practically beamed with pride . . . and then Joe realized what he had said. Calling Nicky a ‘natural’, as if he could imply that somehow shooting someone could ever be ‘natural’. It was a poor word choice, and he lowered his hand, before dropping his grin, “Actually, nevermind.”   
  
He was already reaching for the gun, and Nicky stared up at him confused, “Just because you’re good at it, doesn’t mean you should do it. I shouldn’t have suggested otherwise.” 

“What?” Nicky sounded utterly confused, “I didn’t think you were saying that at all, Joe.”  
  
Joe held the gun carefully, looking over at the used targets, “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea at what we’ve been trained with. TOG is about ‘saving one life, can save the world’, but our goal is to always disarm, and protect. Not attack, and hurt.”   
  
Nicky remained silent, and Joe glanced down, because he realized the hyproscisy he was spouting. His training had taught him exactly how to deal with Keane. He could have easily used the handcuffs in his pocket and restrained him after that first punch. But Joe hadn’t, he took it way too far, he lost sight of everything he was taught, “I shouldn’t have done what I did to Keane.” He shifted his gaze over to Nicky, and hoped what he was about to share didn’t scare him, “But I don’t regret it.”

Nicky stared at him for a long moment, and Joe wondered if he was trying to discern his sincerity. When he finally did reply, his voice was sympathetic, like he was trying to assure him, “I don’t think you should.”

He hadn’t realized until then how much he needed Nicky’s understanding of what had happened on Friday. The last thing Joe wanted to worry about was him possibly thinking of him as some sort of intense, out of control, brute. Because the cold, harsh truth was that he was in full control of himself the other day.   
  
Joe could have said more then, taken a step closer and told Nicky how scared he had been for him that day. How angry, and remorseful he _still_ was, and that he wanted to protect him more than anything. But now was not the moment, and frankly he wasn’t sure if there would _ever_ be a time for it.   
  
Instead, he took a step back and let Nicky shoot a few more rounds. 

Afterwards Joe showed him how to take the gun apart, clean it, and put it back together. 

Nicky was a quick study, and confidently clicked the magazine into place with the palm of his hand. He grinned over at Joe, his eyes gleaming, “Should I try it blindfolded now?”  
  
Joe felt like his heart could burst, utterly grateful at how content Nicky seemed, “Sure.”   
  


* * *

_Day Six - Wednesday_

Joe knew there was a possibility Nicky might say no, and he certainly wouldn’t take it personally if he did, but he thought it would be a good idea to inspect Nicky’s wounds, and bruises. There was a good chance things were mostly healed by now, with only the faintest hint of evidence remaining (if his almost healed cut on his cheek were any indication). He was relieved when Nicky agreed easily enough and they made their way to the bathroom, in case Joe would need to apply any sort of balms to help the skin heal quicker.   
  
And though Nicky had been half naked before him so many times, this was the first time Joe was allowing his fingers to glide across the pale skin. The pink lines along his shoulder blades were faded, barely visible, but he applied ointment to it anyway to hopefully prevent any scaring. He traced his fingertips over them carefully, feeling a sort of intimacy in the moment. Moving slowly and relishing the feel of the smooth skin under his touch. 

But it did not escape Joe that the only reason he got to do this was because Keane had hurt him, caused the very reason he was now getting to glide his hand up towards his shoulders. He wished he could lean forward and kiss it away, trail his mouth over the flesh of his arms where the finger bruises had already faded . . .   
  
It hung over them, Nicky even confirmed as much when his shoulders tensed, “I’m sorry.”   
  
Joe’s voice sounded gruff as he lowered his hand away, “For what?”   
  
“That you’re having to do this for me, that we’re here like this,” Joe looked up and saw Nicky’s reflection in the mirror, his eyes shut tightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t fight him harder.”

“Hey, no, don’t think that please,” Joe hoped he wouldn’t make him uncomfortable, but he allowed his hand to glide over his upper arm, along the now healed skin, “I hate the reason behind it, but I’m happy you’re here.” 

* * *

Nicky relished in the way Joe’s fingers felt on his skin, how he touched him like he was somehow delicate. He wanted to lean into the warm touch, to press into his soft grip over his arm, and encourage him to move it downwards. But when Joe said he was happy that he was there, it made Nicky slowly open his eyes.  
  
Hearing Joe say that helped him immensely, like he really did want him there after all. And Nicky gazed down towards the sink, relieved, “Me, too.”

Though he didn’t love it when Joe pulled his hand back again, he did accept the shirt he was now handing him. He pulled it over his head, while Joe packed up his small first aid kit, “I was thinking now that you’re healed, if you wanted to, I could take you to a nearby lake. It’s fairly private and might help?”   
  
He didn’t say _what_ it might help with, but they both knew he was referring to his stress levels. And he appreciated the effort to make sure he was comfortable by waiting till he didn’t have bruises that might attract the attention of onlookers. Nicky leaned back against the sink, and smiled, “And what will you do at this lake?”   
  
He really, _really_ hoped he was going to offer to go swimming with him. To get to see that body of his in some bathing shorts sounded like a dream come true, but Joe just shrugged his shoulders as he stored the kit back in the cabinet nearby, “What I always do? Watch you?”

Nicky rolled his eyes, but didn’t press.

One day he was going to get this man to take a dip with him. 

He could be patient until then.  
  


* * *

Joe shot up in the bed in the middle of the night.  
  
He was _certain_ he had heard Nicky shout, and he rushed out of the bed, grabbing some pajama bottoms as he hurriedly made his way down the hall. Nicky was facing away from him on the pull out, but must have heard him coming, because he was still pulling the covers over his shaky shoulders. He opened his mouth, likely trying to assure Joe he was okay, but all that came out was a soft whimper, and Joe suddenly realized he must have yelled in his sleep.   
  
He had been doing so well during the day, that Joe hadn’t even asked him if he needed to stay with him that night, and now he felt horrible for the way Nicky’s body tensed at his inability to speak. He hoped he wouldn’t be offended, but he desperately wanted Nicky to know he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Joe had his own nightmares sometimes, ones that also made him want to scream into the night air.   
  
If Nicky didn’t want him to he’d respect that of course, but Joe slowly made his way over to the couch, and kneeled onto the sofa mattress, “Can I stay with you?”   
  
Even in the dark, there was enough light from the hallway for Joe to see him nod his head in silent agreement. He sank further down, stretching out behind him, before he raised his hand between them. He roamed it over his tight shoulder, relieved when some of the tension seemed to seep out of him from the touch, “I’ll stay here all night.”   
  
Nicky’s trembling fingers came into view, curling over his before pulling his hand over his side. Joe was still able to keep his body angled away, and there was the thick comforter between them, but he had never felt the heat from Nicky’s upper body against his skin like this. Never felt his fingers interlock with his, gripping him tightly as if he was about to leave at any moment. They still felt shaky, even when Joe squeezed them back, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”   
  
Nicky let out a stuttering breath, and Joe lowered his head, hoping his own face close to the back of his neck didn’t make him uncomfortable. But Nicky’s breathing evened out, and his grip began to loosen on his hand. Even so, Joe didn’t pull his arm back, he planned on staying awake till he was certain Nicky was able to fall asleep again.   
  
And just as his own eyes began to fall closed, he heard Nicky’s soft voice whisper, “ _Grazie_ .”   
  


* * *

_Day Seven -_ _Thursday_

When Nicky woke up the next morning, he was downright mortified.   
  
He really had thought he was doing better, but he had had a horrible nightmare the night before. He imagined that he was back in the warehouse, but this time Keane had pulled him onto the ground and was trying to rip off his clothes. The more he fought back, the more he hit him before holding the gun up against his temple. He screamed for Joe to help him, but he never showed, and Nicky begged his mind with every fiber of his being to let him wake up. 

He must have started thrashing against the covers, because suddenly he was back in Joe’s living room, staring at his bare legs.   
  
There was a light sweat beading at his hairline, and he swallowed thick gulps of air, trying to moisten his dry, itchy throat. But just as he began to realize that he was in fact safe, that it really _had_ just been a horrible nightmare, Nicky heard Joe coming down the hallway. He couldn’t let Joe see him like that, not when he had been desperate to convince them both he was doing better.   
  
Instead he hurriedly shoved the covers over his trembling body, and tried to assure him it was nothing, that he was okay. But his body completely betrayed him when it refused to allow anything but a whimper to emerge.   
  
Yet when Joe merely climbed into the space behind him, and offered to stay with him, Nicky reached for him relieved. He was having a hard time reminding his body that he was safe in the moment, his heart still thumping furiously within his chest. Being able to cling to Joe’s hand, to feel the weight of his arm draped over him, was like an anchor in dark waters that had been trying to consume him.   
  
He focused on the smell of Joe’s body wash, the feel of his breath against the back of his neck, his soft even breathing that helped him with his shallow one. And though it felt like it took forever, he finally managed to thank him for what he was doing.

 _But now?_ Now as Nicky turned around on the sofa bed, he stared at Joe’s broad, muscular, tanned back. He felt embarrassed, and exhausted, and had no idea how to explain to him that he just wanted to hide under the covers for most of the day.   
  
Worse, his throat felt tight, his head dizzy, and Nicky had had enough experience with it to know that it was going to be one of _those_ days. The silent days where it felt downright overwhelming to speak. He hoped Joe wouldn’t ask him about it, or about why he was screaming in his sleep.   
  
He wished he could float away. 

* * *

The next morning, Joe had rolled onto his back, his body aching from the less firm sofa mattress. It wasn’t that he minded getting to sleep beside Nicky, but if this was going to be a recurring theme he was going to have to insist on his much larger bed. Hopefully that wouldn’t sound weird, or inappropriate.   
  
He had hoped to ask him about the next day, but found Nicky already in the kitchen, and not all that eager to talk about much of _anything_ . He had tried, but Nicky shook his head like he was slightly overwhelmed and Joe worried that maybe some unprocessed stress had rendered him silent. He recalled Nile’s discussion that he had gone through a time during his grief where he was mute, but that singing had helped.   
  
Joe tried to offer to play his guitar, and that Nicky could sing a few melodies if it would help, but he looked back at him horrified, and shook his head before stammering he was _‘fi-fine’_ . He didn’t _seem_ all that fine, yet Joe didn’t want to press. He had to trust that if there was something for him to know, Nicky would tell him eventually. Until then, he’d let him plunder his kitchen and make some huge meal to keep his mind occupied.   
  
They ended up spending the rest of the day in relative silence.   
  
Watching a few movies, reading a few books, and Nicky spent an hour in the bathtub, but Joe was certain he hadn’t spoken more than five words total. By the time night rolled around, Joe had offered to spend the night with him again, but Nicky shook his head, and pulled Felicia into his arms instead.

He should have realized it was going to be a long night.

  
  


* * *

Just like the night before, Nicky felt that same tightness in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. The same rough, itchiness in his throat from the emotions that were stuck in his dry mouth. He blinked his eyes open, but still the threat of tears blurred his vision as he tried to remind himself that he wasn’t actually looking at Keane’s gun again - the silver beside him was just Joe’s lamp. He was in Joe’s home.   
  
Not the warehouse. _Joe’s place._

 _Safe._ He was safe.

But Nicky’s heart still flip flopped in his chest. His head felt dizzy, even with it resting against the pillow, and his eyes shifted to different parts of the room, trying to ground himself - to help his body realize that he wasn’t in any danger anymore. He wished he had Joe’s hand to cling to instead.  
  
He counted the grooves on the corner of the side table.

The number of tassels on the curtain nearby.

He willed his lungs to inhale on a long, deep, stuttering breath before he clamped his mouth shut, willing himself not to cry - 

“Nicky?”  
  
He froze. Scared to look behind him, but he didn’t have to when he felt the space dip. Joe, just like last night, had heard him after all. And just like the night before, Nicky buried his face in his arm, embarrassed.   
  
He both wanted Joe to hold him like he had the night before, and feared he might ask him questions this time. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer. What if he asked him to explain? Admit to just how badly everything had affected him after all? He wasn’t even ready to confess those things to _himself._ How could he ever admit them to Joe?   
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
Joe’s body felt close, aligned with his own, and Nicky used the last bit of the emotional strength he had left to will it not to press back. Instead he shook his head, hoping Joe could tell he was silently saying _‘no’_ in the dark.   
  
But unlike last night, when Joe simply laid behind him, _this_ time he shifted. He rolled onto his side, and moved closer to his back. Nicky’s breath hitched, and he desperately tried not to let his mouth open, afraid that something akin to a moan would come out once he felt Joe’s lips brushing the back of his neck.   
  
He spoke quietly, and the words made him shiver a little, “Or would you like to be distracted from things?”

Nicky wanted to ask what _kind_ of distractions, but still fearing how rough his voice might sound, he used his only other option: tilting his shoulder back a little until it pressed against Joe’s chest.   
  
His bare chest.   
  
His bare, _warm_ , chest.   
  
The groan slipped out between his lips before he could stop it, and Nicky’s body sank further against him, desperately seeking the close, physical contact.   
  
Joe’s firm hand came up to his hip bone, stalling him from being able to rub his pajama covered cheeks against his hardness, and Nicky surprised even himself when he _whined_ in protest. How undone was he already from just this? Was it maybe the nightmare? The frayed nerves -   
  
“Nicky,” Joe’s lips brushed against the groove of his neck, and he elongated the column, urging him to trail kisses along his already flushed skin. Instead, Joe peppered just the faintest traces of his beard, tickling the sensitive spot behind his ear, before he nibbled his mouth against his earring - and _tugged_ it between his teeth.   
  
Even against Joe’s steady hold, Nicky was able to give a small thrust, and he moaned into the crook of his arm when he felt his stiff, _bare_ , cock drag against the fabric. He heard Joe grunt against the edge of his hairline, and his hand moved from his hip, up along his side. Joe’s fingers dug into the curve of his rib cage, flexing a little, as if he was trying to cling to him as desperately as Nicky was now clutching the sheets in front of him, “Let me take care of you.”   
  
“Y-Yes,” Nicky panted, before slamming his mouth shut, hating how weak he sounded. How sad, and tired, and _desperate._   
  
Joe’s fingers continued roaming upwards, lightly tracing over his shoulder, gliding against the edge of his jawline before curving them close to his tightly sealed lips, “Open.”   
  
Finally, Nicky allowed himself to open his eyes, and though his vision stayed focused on Joe’s wrist, his heart pounded in his chest. When Keane had ordered him to open his mouth, it felt dirty, and terrifying - but now as Joe patiently waited for him to do it, it felt _thrilling_ . A part of him had wondered if the experience with Keane would have tainted the things he liked to do with his mouth. And maybe it had.   
  
Maybe it would only feel good to open his mouth for Joe from now on.   
  
Slowly, he parted his lips, his once dry mouth now feeling moist and ready as Joe pressed his hand forward. Nicky swirled his tongue against the pads of two thick fingers, encouraged by the hard breathing behind his ear. He closed his mouth down to the second knuckle, and sucked.   
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Joe’s hips bucked against him, and Nicky hallowed out his cheeks, taking the fingers in even deeper. His eyes rolled a little, eyelids fluttering closed, and he felt himself harden between his legs.   
  
Finally his own hand unclamped from the sheets, his now white knuckles grateful for the sudden return of blood flow, before he hurriedly shoved it down to his burgeoning cock. He fumbled with the edge of the pants, pushing them down just enough before freeing the tip and rolling the foreskin down to tease at the cockhead.   
  
“Wait,” Joe’s voice sounded rough, and Nicky paused immediately, afraid he had done something wrong. But he did not let go of the hold on his fingers until Joe started pulling them back, “Let me touch you, just try to relax.”   
  
Glad that Joe wasn’t pulling away completely, Nicky waited, unsure what was about to happen next - but feeling Joe’s now wet fingers dip along the seam of his ass was _definitely_ not one of them. His own fingers tightened along his shaft, and he groaned against the blanket as his head dipped forward, “ _J-Joe_ .”   
  
Joe pressed one slicked finger against the bud of his entrance, and Nicky’s thighs trembled in anticipation. It was embarrassing how close he already was, but he _needed_ this. Needed the connection. Needed to feel something besides fear, panic and pain. He wanted to feel _Joe_ , all of him, and pulled his knee higher, trying to help spread his cheeks more, “Please.”   
  
His beard traced along the pulse point of his neck, before his warm mouth licked the edge of his ear. The move made Nicky moan, and he pumped his dick harder, “ _Please_ .”   
  
Nicky could hear the same desperation in Joe’s reply, “Anything for you. Anything.”   
  
He pressed the finger past the tight ring of flesh, and Nicky’s head fell back against Joe’s hard shoulder on a gasp. His breath staggered as Joe began to dig deeper, not stopping until his index finger was in as far as he could go. He swirled the digit within the pulsating space, and Nicky’s hips jerked against the invasion, seeking an even deeper, wider penetration. When he felt Joe press in the second slicked up finger, he stilled and let out a guttural groan, “Joe, _yes_.”

“You feel so good, just like I knew you would.”  
  
He tried to look back, desperate to see the affection in his eyes, that he heard in his voice, but Joe began to _thrust_ his fingers inside of him, and the only thing his mind could process was to jerk himself to the same incessant movements, till he could finally seek the relief his tightly wound body needed.

Even though Joe surely needed the same attention, he was true to his word, focused on taking care of Nicky first. He pressed and curled his fingers inside of him till he found the bundle of nerves that made Nicky jolt, and arch his back, “Right there, _right there_ -”

He quickened the pace along his cock, feeling small beads of arousal pool at the slit, and smear against his palm. And Joe, with his unrelenting flicks of his hand, stretched the edge of his rim - getting his body ready for the thick, throbbing dick _leaking_ against the small of Nicky’s back. He felt so close already, and then he heard Joe moaning against his skin, “Come for me.”   
  
Nicky squeezed his cock, increasing the speed until his abs tightened, the release so close he could _taste_ it. Joe leaned closer, his mouth sucking against the tight muscles just along his shoulder, surely leaving a mark. A mark as deep as the one he was now tracing inside of him. As deep as he was about to do with his cock. 

Nicky felt the waves of pleasure sweep over him, licking down his back until his arms trembled and his body stilled . . . before the orgasm _crashed_ against his body. He screamed out his release as he spilled onto the blanket underneath him, “Joe!”   
  
His body tensed, and his cock continued to spurt out thick droplets onto his hand as he made sure to empty himself completely - still mumbling Joe’s name under his breath over and over again, as his heart rate began to steady itself . . .   
  


. . . And then his eyes snapped open.

Joe wasn’t there.  
  
Joe hadn’t _been_ there.

And Nicky had only _dreamed_ of Joe making him come.

But he _had_ come - onto his sheets, and Nicky sat up and sighed, “ _Great_.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the clean hand over the scruff along his jawline before swiping the fingertips over his lips. They felt puffy and wet, and he wondered if he had sucked on his own fingers as he jerked himself off in his dream. _Fuck_ , he really hoped Joe hadn’t heard him - and he cautiously glanced towards the hallway, almost afraid to see him standing there wide eyed.   
  
There was a small light emanating from the bathroom, but otherwise the space was bare.

 _If_ Joe heard anything, he chose not to come out of his room, and Nicky released a shaky breath in gratitude.

Now he just needed to clean up the mess he left on the blanket, wash his hands, and pretend he didn’t just have a fantastic sex dream about Joe. Like orgasmically fantastic sex dream - _gah_ , his body still felt the endorphins from it. As embarrassed as he was, his anxiety _had_ evaporated (even if just for a few minutes), and though a little sluggish, he did manage to get up and gather the now rolled up blanket into his arms fairly easily.   
  
Luckily he had managed to pull the pajama bottoms down in his sleep and spared himself from having to wash those too, and though he had thrown the tank to the side before he laid down, he put it back on now, just in case Joe decided to see what was going on. Nicky’s only plan was to wash the blanket in the hallway’s washer and dryer unit, wait till it was done . . . and try to pretend that none of this had happened. 

He set the washer, closed the lid, pressed start (hoping the water pooling into the basin wasn’t too loud), before walking over to the bathroom to wash his hands. The soft light in the room still felt piercing against his dry eyes, and he awkwardly glared at himself in the mirror as he tried to adjust them from the darkness of the hallway. He even rubbed at the eyelids a little, but it was no use, the exhaustion of both his anxiety from the last week, and the grogginess of a post orgasm haze made him look more worn than usual.  
  
Nicky didn’t look as bad as he had a week ago, but just barely. And as his vision adjusted, he slumped his shoulders, realizing he wasn’t likely going back to sleep. 

He’d been here before. In the darkness of the night, when the world was quiet, and almost peaceful. No expectations, no feigning one mood or another. He could sit with his thoughts, let his body process some things he had refused to even acknowledge in the day. A lot of times it helped even. Yet tonight, a more unsettling familiarity set in. One where his brain refused to process what his heart needed him to. And his body was going to suffer for it. He would lay there in the dark, unable to deal with the truth that felt just out of reach.   
  
Instead, hours would pass as he wandered around the space. 

His body worn, his eyes exhausted . . . but sleep would still elude.

Anxiety. Insomnia.

Pain.

Whatever you wanted to call it, this was the night his body said, “Deal with it.”

And his mind countered, “You _first_ .”   
  
Turning off the faucet, he stepped back into the hallway, unsure how long he had even been standing in front of the mirror, but now he saw that the washer was done. He had managed to zone out for a good twenty minutes, and Nicky rolled his worn shoulders once, before reaching in to shove the damp blanket into the dryer.

He had just pressed it on when he heard the now familiar creak of Joe’s bedroom door not far behind him. 

“What time is it?”  
  
Nicky tried to keep his eyes down, not really ready to look at Joe just yet so soon after imagining the (wonderful) things he had in his sleep, but sort of _had_ to glance his way in order see the clock on the wall near him.   
  
And when he did, when he caught sight of him, all Nicky could do was gnaw on his bottom lip a little because he looked _adorable_.

Though Joe’s hair had been barely above a buzzcut, he had been obviously growing it out in the month that he’d known him, and just the tiniest licks of curls were now going in all sorts of directions along the right side of his face. His eyes were squinting against the bathroom light flooding into the hallway, which made the edges just past the lids crinkle. 

Nicky hoped he wouldn’t notice any hesitancy, or see any hint of embarrassment, “It’s almost three.”  
  
Joe groaned in response, and the sound made Nicky want to turn back around, hoping to keep his dick from swelling. But he figured any sudden movements might alert Joe to his uncomfortableness, so he willed his body not to betray him in front of the Adonis leaning haphazardly against the threshold of his door, “Are you - doing _laundry_ right now?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nicky shifted from one leg to the other, hoping Joe wouldn’t ask him to elaborate.

Joe rubbed the palm of his hand over his weary left eye, before he straightened his body. He seemed to be trying to wake himself up more, so he could better take in what was going on around him. And Nicky hated the idea of Joe seeing right through him. Of looking at him now, and realizing just how messed up he was. It was one thing to be held by him last night after a nightmare. But he might just die from embarrassment if Joe asked him why he was only washing his blanket . . .   
  


He glanced over at him, still groggy, “Did you have another nightmare?”

Nicky had promised no more secrets, but, maybe a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. He tried to relax as best as he could under his stare, hoping he sounded casual, “Something like that.”  
  
Joe huffed, like he didn’t buy it for one moment, and Nicky’s eyes widened as he extended his arm. Without waiting for his approval, or even really asking him, Joe wrapped his warm hand around Nicky’s shaky one, and tugged him close, “C’mere.”   
  
Unsure, but not exactly in a hurry to pull away from Joe, Nicky followed as Joe led them both through his bedroom door, and closed it behind him.

* * *

  
  
**NOTES:** Ahhhhhh don't hate me completely *_____* I promise NO MORE FAKEOUTS . . . _**NEXT CHAPTER is them declaring their feelings**_ (and a few of the tags that we listed from the beginning are going to happen ;) ). AND we will have snuggles, and Nicky processing things, and Joe trying to be romantic, and unraveling a few things, and it's sweet, sweet, comforttttt <3  
  
As for THIS chapter, who commented about Nicky maybe learning some moves on his own? Congrats, because we 100% wanted some (sexual tension) training moments with breathing hard, sweaty JoexNicky xD BUT also wanted to give a little homage to Sniper!Nicky first haha. Of course, Nicky and Nile are friendship goals as always and I hope she was able to talk some sense into that man because JOE IS HALFWAY IN LOVE ALREADYYYYY come ON NICKYYYY (I mean, that voicemail message from the day of the kidnapping?! T____________T). And I hope everyone liked a taste of what's coming up sexually for these two xD  
  
Thank you for helping us reach 7k views (I really never thought that was going to happen!!) See you next Wednesday!

And as always, kudos and comments feed us!! <3

  
ETA! In celebration of making it to 7k, Luz said I can share the [Playlist she made for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1FrhSPQJWJRk6rXWri6OPu?si=_p56DLRESr66M88_DTtf7Q&utm_source=copy-link) before I even started writing it! I listen to it every time I start a new chapter and it's filled with lotssss of songs that are both meaningful for each character and represents big events from their past, and the future ~ hope you give it a listen ❤


	12. Day Eight Through Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths are revealed, and the kindling ignites . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! HERE WE GO - after like 120k words (including this chapter), we will finallllly address some feelings!! <333  
> And several tags we included from the beginning are going to happeeennnnn :D
> 
> But first, some trigger warnings apply for this chapter [ spoilers ] --- we learn Nicky's backstory surrounding his mother. She died of throat cancer, and Nicky sort of crumbles as he shares how things went from a child's perspective (no flashbacks, no descriptions about her symptoms or appearance), and it's done in a summarization writing style, vs dialogue. But Nicky does talk about his frustrations/anger as she got sicker, and loss of faith around her death, and obviously it's pretty sad all around. The next day, they go somewhere and Nicky mentions his mother's stillbirth with his brother, Roberto. It's one line, but figured I'd mention it, too. And lastly, we also have a scene of Joe having a nightmare around his trauma. It's veryyy vague but he is imagining a lot of screaming, and someone calling his name, before he jolts awake, so I figured I'd include that in the possible tw/cw/squick warnings --- [ end spoilers ]
> 
> See you in the end notes :)

* * *

_“He ran his hands over my past - lingering over the dents and worn edges of my heart. . . . And he told me I was a warrior, and that I’d never fight another battle alone.” - Alfa_

* * *

  
  


_Day Eight - Friday_

  
Nicky opened his eyes slowly as the sunrise brightened the room, and realized he must have turned in his sleep, because he was now staring at a sleeping Joe.   
  
Joe was laying on his back, his face angled towards the wall, and thanks to the blanket draped around his waist, his bare chiseled chest was on full display. Nicky probably shouldn’t have allowed his eyes to scan down Joe’s long torso, but even relaxed, his defined abs called to him. He wanted to trace over the firm muscles with his fingertips, slowly roam down towards those tattoos on his thighs, and . . . and Nicky rolled onto his arms, sighing into the pillow.

After leading Nicky into the room last night, Joe had suggested far too casually that he simply sleep in the bed with him _as if that was that_. He had groggily pulled out another comforter for himself, and explained they could each stick to a side of the large bed, as he climbed in first, shifting close to the wall. Joe seemed already half asleep when he mumbled ‘goodnight’, and Nicky echoed the same as he slowly laid down beside him, hoping to have far less intense dreams.

But now Joe had shifted in his sleep, moving until he was resettled on his side, and Nicky cautiously tilted his face _just_ enough to peek over at him. It was interesting to see Joe’s face so relaxed: no worry lines, no dimples, his lips parted ever so slightly. He looked almost peaceful, except for the way his eyes moved under his eye lids.   
  
Nicky’s gaze trailed down, and noticed that he could make out the small tattoo on his right pec better in the light. He had barely registered it the other night with all that lovely tanned skin of his on display in the dark kitchen, but now he studied the faded lettering up close. He was able to make out a ‘Y’ and ‘a’ in cursive before Joe shifted again, and Nicky quickly put more space between them.  
  
Joe curved his arm up and swiped a hand over his face to wake up faster, before peering over at Nicky, “Morning.”  
  
Even groggy, and half asleep, Joe was naturally charming while Nicky barely managed to grumble incoherently to his warm greeting, wondering if Joe realized he had been leering at his body. 

“Sleep better?” Joe leaned up on his elbows, his stomach flexing at the new tilt of his upper body and Nicky was utterly grateful that his body was facing down.  
  
He managed to nod in silent affirmation, yet Joe continued to stare down at him looking slightly concerned, “Nicky, you’ve been through a lot, and if you’re struggling to sleep there’s no shame in that.”  
  
He was relieved that Joe hadn’t caught on to the effect he was having on him, but that didn’t exactly make him feel better, “I - I know that... rationally.” He propped himself up on his arms, though he shifted his eyes away, “But I don’t mean to take up so much of your space.”  
  
“You’re not,” Joe pointed out, “and I offered, alright?” He began to sit up more, leaning against the headboard, but regrettably pulled the comforter up with him to avoid flashing Nicky, “I don’t mind sleeping beside you if you’re having nightmares, but let’s do that in a bigger, more comfortable bed?”  
  
Nicky had to wonder if his cheeks looked as hot as they felt, “Mm, okay.”

“Okay,” Joe grinned, before he started to move down towards the end of the bed. Nicky peeked over, but sadly Joe was wearing briefs after all, _and_ had managed to do a fairly decent job of keeping the fabric wrapped around his lower half as he stepped onto the floor. He reached for a shirt that had been draped over the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, but Nicky looked away when he dropped the comforter to slip on his pants next.  
  
Not because he wouldn’t have _loved_ to enjoy the view, but because he still needed to be able to turn around in the bed without sporting a tent.

“Mind if I take the shower first?”  
  
 _‘Only if I can join you,’_ Nicky’s mind automatically countered, and he dipped his head towards the pillow to stifle himself, “Sure.”

He refused to lift his head until he heard the door click to the bathroom.

His own shower was going to have to be a cold one.

* * *

  
  


After brushing his teeth, Joe paused at the smiling reflection of himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling downright playful.   
  
With Nicky’s body healed, and some actual restful sleep the night before, Joe thought of changing his initial plan of a shower. He turned off the faucet, and called out across the hallway to the still open door of his bedroom, “Hey, Nicky, did you want to start the day with some training?”

There was only a short pause, before Nicky’s cheerful voice shouted back, “Guns, or self defense moves?” 

Joe walked over to the threshold, and from the angle he had a perfect line of sight into his room. When he saw Nicky sitting up in his bed, a warmth spread over his chest, and he considered what kind of sales pitch he’d have to make in order to _keep_ him in there for as long as possible, “Want to start with a run first?”  
  
Nicky tipped his head, seemingly mulling over the idea for a moment before he gave him a coy smile, “Sure, but be prepared, I’m going to be faster than you.”  
  
Joe straightened up within the door frame, liking a challenge, “Is that so?”  
  
“I think I could make it around the property faster than you could.” 

Considering how heavy the last week had felt, Joe decided to encourage Nicky’s confidence by offering an incentive, “Want to bet on it?”  
  
“What kind of bet?” Nicky asked innocently enough, but Joe caught the glint in his bright eyes. He also seemed to like the idea of a challenge.  
  
“Hm, if you win,” he paused, cycling over possible scenarios of something Nicky might enjoy, “I’ll take you out to a restaurant tonight. You deserve a night of no cooking.”  
  
“You forget I _like_ to cook,” but he agreed to the terms anyway, “And if you win?”  
  
Joe walked across the hallway with a smirk, “I’ll still take you out tonight.”  
  
Nicky laughed so hard his shoulders shook, “How is that a reward for you, if you’re having to spend the money on food I could just make here for a third of the price?”  
  
 _'It would be its own reward to sit across from you tonight,’_ but Joe knew he couldn’t say that _out_ loud. 

He had merely wanted to encourage some endorphins for both of them in the morning, and figured some more self defense training might help Nicky feel comfortable with leaving the property. But Joe decided there was no way to talk his way out of this one without revealing more about his feelings than he likely should. He would just have to settle for looking less than suave instead, “Guess I’m horrible at placing bets, but the offer still stands?”  
  
Nicky accepted, before shoving the blanket beside him, “But first, coffee.”

* * *

It wasn’t like Nicky _meant_ to be such a tease about it, but he didn’t mind the way Joe’s eyes lit up when he stepped out of the cabin wearing a simple tank, and the shortest gym shorts he owned. 

He turned his face away, suggesting they stretch first, and thoroughly enjoyed how Joe’s grey sweatpants tightened around his lean thighs when he leaned against the front porch railing for his own set.

Then, after discussing which direction to start with, Joe counted down before Nicky bolted forward. But within minutes of the race, he realized that Joe did not seem to be running nearly as hard as he was. Though he couldn’t tell if Joe was purposely lagging behind, or if the extra caffeine in his veins was giving him a boost.

Nicky had easily won by a whole minute, and he flopped down on the front steps, a light sheen of sweat coating most of his body. He leaned on his elbows, head tilted back while Joe slowly jogged over, breathing as equally hard as he was.   
  
He opened his eyes when he felt Joe standing nearby, and stared up at the familiar sort of yearning that he had caught in his look more than once. It made him wonder if Joe had purposely stayed behind him to watch the way his legs moved. Maybe his shorts even flapped up once or twice showing off his bare cheeks, since he had chosen to wear a thong.   
  
Unfortunately Joe silently ascended the steps beside him, and Nicky lolled his cheek over to his shoulder. He could smell the pheromones wafting over as he moved past him, giving Nicky all sorts of thoughts as he listened to his hard breathing. Really he was happy to make the first move, he just wished Joe would give him _something_ more than just a quick glimpse of a passionate look, to let him know he _wanted_ him to. 

* * *

  
Joe had been all too happy to let Nicky win if it meant he got to stare at that ass unencumbered, but once they both had toweled off and rehydrated, Joe had suggested showers before they could do another round of gun training. 

He still wasn’t so keen on the idea of hand to hand combat for Nicky, if anything for what he’d been through, but he excelled with guns, and obviously could outrun someone if he had the opportunity to. Hopefully that was enough to help him feel comfortable leaving the cabin later in the day. 

But if Nicky felt anxious in any way when they headed out that night, he carried it well, looking downright happy as they pulled up to a small restaurant with the menu printed on cheap laminate. Surely Nicky was used to far fancier places, but as Joe glanced across the table, he was relieved to see him smiling as he silently scanned over the menu.  
  
They both ended up choosing a simple burger and fries combo, before settling into casual conversation that mostly centered around Nile’s current training schedule. Nicky was curious as to what her days looked like, and though it had been just over a decade since Joe had done his own month long ‘practice’ round, he recalled a lot of nights of stumbling to his cot and collapsing down exhausted.

Nicky seemed a little sullen, and Joe wondered if he had wanted to call her, “She’ll probably be a bit worn out at first, but they get a day off once a week. I’m sure she could call you if you want to talk to her?”  
  
“Oh I’d like to talk to her,” he muttered, before swirling a fry in the ketchup of the plastic basket, “but I also want her to be able to focus on what she needs to do while she’s there.”  
  
Joe dropped a crumpled napkin in his own basket, hating how Nicky’s smile faded on his face, “I’m sure she appreciates you wanting to give her space, but I doubt she’d be anything less than thrilled to hear from you.”  
  
His lips curved slightly as leaned back against the booth, “I know, really, I do. But she had to worry a lot about me, and I want her to take some time to just worry about herself for a few weeks. Stay focused on the training and all that.”  
  
“I bet Nile would counter that she cares about you, and does not think worrying about you detracts from her goals in life,” Joe moved his hands into his lap, realizing his statement wasn’t just about Nile. But he didn’t like the idea of Nicky feeling like he was some sort of inconvenience that had fallen into his life.  
  
When Nicky raised his eyes across the table, Joe didn’t look away, and for a brief moment he was downright certain he had read between the lines, “So, not a burden after all?”  
  
 _‘Who the fuck ever made you think you’re a burden?’_ Joe glided his hands over his knees, trying to keep things light still, “Not at all.” Then, just for good measure, he hurriedly added, “Why don’t you text her on the drive home? If she has the chance to talk, she will, if not, she’ll probably suggest a good time she can?”  
  
It escaped neither of them that he called his place ‘home’, as if somehow it was _theirs_. 

But Nicky didn’t correct him, and Joe went to pay the cashier.

* * *

Nicky had texted Nile before they had even reached the car, grateful when she responded almost right away.  
  
Just like Joe had suggested, she lamented that she was exhausted and heading to bed early, but that she would love to call him in a few days. They coordinated a time to video chat, before Nile sent him several happy face emojis saying she couldn’t wait to see him.   
  
Nicky wondered if there would ever come a day when he wouldn’t worry that he was bothering Nile by saying he missed her.   
  
But it was exactly that concern, that maybe he came across as needy, or clingy, that made Joe’s words after dinner even more meaningful. He hoped that some of it was directed at him, that Joe might be like Nile in that regard and not begrudge him from needing their words to soothe the silence he allowed to build sometimes between them. Maybe one day he could lean into trusting the people he cared about, believe their words more easily, because the truth was that he cared about Joe, too.  
  
Cared about him a lot, _and_ he wanted him. 

That only complicated everything. Made Nicky pause every time when he considered just reaching over and kissing Joe. Because he knew he wanted even more with him. 

By the time they got back to Joe’s place, it wasn’t all that late, but he was more than ready to pull out the sofa bed and snuggle Felicia. Yet as soon as he reached for the cushions, Joe stared at him from across the way, “What are you doing?”  
  
Nicky stopped, “Setting up the bed?”  
  
“But,” Joe took a step closer, “Aren’t you sleeping in the bed tonight again?”  
  
“I figured that was only if I have a nightmare?”  
  
“I’m worried you might?” Joe replied casually. He certainly didn’t mean to imply Nicky _would_ have bad dreams, but they both understood the likelihood at this point.  
  
 _‘Still’_ , Nicky wondered, “What if I don’t? Wouldn’t that be a little weird -” He closed his mouth, not liking the idea of labeling sleeping beside Joe as ‘weird’. It wouldn’t be weird, it would be amazing.   
  
Joe had reached the sofa, and he curled his hands over the edge, “How about you sleep there until you don’t have any nightmares for one week?”  
  
It sounded like a kind offer, but Nicky felt like he should counter with an out anyways, “Are you sure?”  
  
“It’ll help me sleep better knowing you’re doing okay at night,” Nicky ran his teeth over his bottom lip, trying to contain the smile at his statement. He did enjoy helping others, but the thought that he could help Joe by doing something as mundane as sleeping beside him? Yet Joe must have misread his silent gratitude as uncertainty, because he followed it up with another suggestion, “We could make it more comfortable for you, too?”  
  
Nicky lifted his gaze, finding Joe so close that if he merely dipped his knees onto the cushion, he could reach for him, “How so?”  
  
Joe straightened up, a hand gliding over his short hair, “We could move Felicia’s cat bed to the chair by the window? Cats like to sunbathe right?”  
  
For someone who never had a pet before, Joe was being awfully accommodating towards her, “Yes.”  
  
Joe stepped around the sofa, heading over to the French doors nearby, “And we could move some of the plants in front of the window, too?”  
  
Nicky tipped his head, giving him a teasing grin, “I get the feeling you’ve put some thought into this.”  
  
Even though Joe was smiling, his words were serious, “I just want to do what I can to help you sleep better.”  
  
 _‘I think you should give him a chance,’_ Nile’s words echoed in his mind, _‘he sees you, and is still here.’_

His heart thumped furiously inside of his chest, but at least Nicky’s voice was steady, “One week?”  
  
Joe smiled so big, that the edges of his eyes crinkled, “One week.”

* * *

_Day Nine - Saturday_ **  
****  
  
**

The next morning was a little less awkward.  
  
Joe had unfortunately chosen to sleep in a shirt and shorts, and Nicky angled away as best as he could. But he was right, he had slept more comfortably. No nightmares, only rest, and he woke up early to enjoy the sunrise. It was nice to step out onto Joe’s back porch, sipping some tea, and feeling the warmth of the day washing over him.   
  
It was even nicer when Joe chose to join him, giving him a quiet morning greeting before taking a seat nearby.   
  
It reminded Nicky of those days at his house when they would sit like this in his kitchen, and he stared over at him from the rim of the cup. Warm, safe, secure, and now, content. Just another word to add to the list of what he thought of when he looked at Joe.

Most of the day had passed fairly quickly. 

Joe had given him some training books to glance over, welcoming any questions Nicky had, but as he poured over them, he got more and more silent. The chapters on ‘what to do if you’re kidnapped’ were particularly upsetting, but he forced himself to read over it anyway. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it because he wanted to prove to himself he could handle it, or if he was trying to convince himself it hadn’t traumatized him as much as it did.  
  
He didn’t cry though, and Nicky considered that an improvement, but even he realized that he would likely need to speak to a professional at some point.  
  
Nicky wondered if there ever would come a day when he shared more with Joe about it, but he pushed that thought back as soon as it came. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Joe could handle the truth, but it was a traumatic event for him, too, and Nicky didn’t want to add his own on top of Joe’s. He hadn’t implied he was suffering from that day in the same way Nicky was. But how could he not be?

He closed the book to pick up the second one, even more determined to figure out how to deal with it on his own. Except his body had other plans, and a truth he had never planned on sharing with Joe, spilled out of him anyways.

Later that night, when they sat down on the couch together to watch a movie before bed, Nicky encouraged Joe to pick a movie for himself.   
  
Normally, they had been sticking to happy ones, but Joe had to be sick of Disney movies by now. He pointed out a few horror movie selections, and Nicky readily agreed, hoping to find an excuse to sort of lean close to Joe while he claimed to be scared . . .  
  
Sure, it was a downright juvenile move, but he was desperate to find a way to touch the man during the day, and not just inadvertent snuggles in bed that Joe didn’t even seem aware he was doing.   
  
When Joe grinned over at him, holding a choice between two 80’s horror classics, Nicky picked _‘The Shining’_ . It had been years since he had seen it, and even then it was mostly so Nile and he could laugh at the cultural memes that had come from it, versus actually paying attention to the plot. But now as the movie played out in front of him, Nicky’s brain began to filter through far too many parallels.  
  
A workaholic father who neglected his family.

A gentle, frail, mother who wanted nothing more than to take care of her son.

And how they were struggling to stay safe while outside forces were terrorizing them.

Because how many days had Nicky spent in the hospital, ready to fight every doctor, and nurse who didn’t make his mother better?   
  
How many times did he want to shout and yell at them for not getting her back home, when that was the point of hospitals. And how many times did his mother try to soothe his anger, and suggest he pray instead. He naively believed they would work. That even if the medical team said she did not have long, even if his Dad claimed the same, it didn’t matter. Nicky would say all the prayers she had taught him, certain God would listen to them. 

And then she died anyway.

 _‘God didn’t listen to my prayers,’_ he had bitterly told his father once, _‘maybe it only worked when she did it.’_

He stormed out of the room, unable to remember if his father followed after him.

“You’re crying.”  
  
Nicky heard Joe’s soft voice beside him, like he had moved closer, but he had barely registered it. He stared ahead at the tv, the movie now paused, but he hadn’t noticed the lack of sound with the awful memories having played out in his mind. 

"I am?" he raised his hand to his face, dabbing at the wet flesh just beneath his left eye. Sure enough, tears, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Joe immediately replied with a somber voice, “Was it something in the movie?”  
  
“Sort of,” Nicky lowered his hand, then stared down at his lap, unsure where to even begin to explain, “Mostly just memories.”  
  
“I’m here if you want to tell me,” Joe was close, _so_ close that Nicky could feel his shoulder just barely brushing against his.  
  
He tilted his head towards him, but his eyes stared down at Joe’s hand already reaching for him, “It’s heavy stuff.”  
  
“Even more reason to talk about it,” his arms widened, a silent offering if Nicky needed it, but he wouldn’t press. Joe paused, waiting.  
  
And Nicky thought about his voicemail from that horrible day. About how much Joe was trying to catch up to him, about how much he wanted to ‘fix this’. He wanted to tell him he didn’t have to try so hard. That he didn’t have to carry any of this with him, wanted to assure him that he was fine. But when Nicky finally managed to open his mouth, he barely managed a strained, ‘Joe -’ before his throat clamped shut on him.  
  
He couldn’t lie to Joe again. His body refused to let him.

Instead he sagged into those welcoming arms as they wrapped around his upper body, not stopping until his back was to Joe’s chest, and his cheek rested on Joe’s forearm. And when Joe moved his other arm over Nicky’s side, he reached for his hand, slotting their fingers together and holding onto him tightly. 

Joe was no longer catching up, and he quietly murmured as much right over Nicky’s ear, “I’m here.”

It wasn’t a strangled, ugly sort of cry. But the tears fell freely, wetting the tanned skin beneath him. He’d feel terribly embarrassed about it all soon enough, but in that moment, Nicky found himself talking about his mother’s diagnosis. How the cancer had festered inside of her throat, eating away at her until she could no longer talk, sing, or eat. Still, she behaved like a martyr, ‘offering up her suffering’ and some days Nicky was furious at how easily she seemed to accept it all. Some days, when he felt awful for thinking it, he wondered if she would still be alive, if only she had fought harder.  
  
As angry as he was at his Dad afterwards, on some horrible days, he was angry at her, too.

And after the guilt would set in, it would shift to frustration with himself. Even now, he sometimes was annoyed at the little boy who believed prayers, songs, and love would cure everything. Who diligently went with her in the pool for her therapy days, allowing the water to soothe the aching side effects of her medications. At the boy who scribbled on white boards, trying his best to communicate with his mother, who did nothing but smile at his horrible attempt at cursive. The boy, who wanted her back so badly, that when she died, he went mute. A vain attempt to be like her, in order to keep her presence in the house long after she was buried.   
  
And he told Joe _everything_ . About her diagnosis, and how long it took. How sad and angry he was, and how silent he went for years. And how some days, it was easier to slip into that silence than to speak up.   
  
But outside of Joe shifting every now and then, or squeezing his hand, he didn’t say anything. Just listened until Nicky’s voice didn’t sound so strained, until the tears dried up, and he sunk further against his lap, only upright at an angle from Joe’s efforts.  
  
The minutes ticked on, and as Nicky slowly began to come back to the present, just before he wondered if he had said too much after all, he felt Joe hold him a little tighter, “I’m so sorry, Nicky.”  
  
Nicky closed his eyes, emotionally spent, but relieved. 

Because for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel worried. Only loved.  
  
  


* * *

  
Joe encased him in his arms, wishing he could take away the pain for him. 

As much as he had suspected the pain around his grief, the truth of what Nicky had endured so young was more than he had imagined.

And even though he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do for him, not really, he did know how significant Felicia, and his mother’s plants were to him. Something physical, tangible, seemed to help in some way to ease his pain, so Joe thought of something, hoping his suggestion didn’t come across as insensitive.

He eased into it, since he knew Nicky no longer prayed, “If you don’t want to, I’d understand. But you said faith was important to your mom.” Nicky nodded against his arm, but otherwise remained silent, “There’s a little chapel not far from here. We could go there tomorrow, and you could light a candle for her?”

He could feel Nicky’s eyes open, but he didn’t look up at him, “I think she would have liked me doing that.” Then he squeezed Joe’s hand, “Yes, let’s do that tomorrow.”  
  
A silence filled the room, but neither moved. Nicky didn’t rise up, and Joe was certainly not going to let go of him if he wasn’t uncomfortable. But maybe Nicky was waiting on him to speak up? He had shared so much, maybe he just wanted to fill the space with noise - or maybe he needed to rest? Unsure, Joe quietly asked, “Do you want to find a different movie to watch? Or maybe go to bed?”  
  
“Can we - ” Nicky curled his legs closer to his torso, clinging tighter onto Joe, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”  
  
Joe sat back against the sofa more comfortably, taking Nicky with him, “Of course.”

  
  


* * *

_Day Ten - Sunday_

Before they left for the small roadside chapel several miles away, Joe went upstairs and grabbed the old camera, swiping at the layer of dust. He knew Nicky likely wouldn’t want pictures of himself, but maybe he’d like one of the candles they lit? He could develop it for him and maybe he could keep it somewhere with the plants?   
  
He didn’t think it was _that_ big of a deal, but when he suggested the reason for bringing it along, Nicky stared up at him with a soft smile. He pointed out that Joe had obviously not used the camera in a while, and that he was grateful that he wanted to do that for him.   
  
Joe wished he could admit just how much he was willing to do for Nicky.

The chapel was empty, but kept unlocked on Sundays for people to filter in and out at their leisure. He had only ever seen a handful of cars some mornings, but they had gone just before nightfall, and only the first few feet inside, heading straight to the rows of candles, some already lit.  
  
Nicky didn’t say any prayers that Joe could tell, and Joe didn’t either. He didn’t want to tell Nicky about the why, but it seemed grief has had a mutual effect on them both. With one significant distinction: Nicky didn’t pray because he doubted God existed. Joe didn’t pray because he didn’t think God was listening. 

When he stepped back, and Joe raised the camera to take a picture, he noticed two new candles lit, “Two?” 

Nicky watched the flicker of the flames, and Joe stared at the way they warmed his face, “My mother had a stillbirth not too long before she got pregnant with me. His name was Roberto.”  
  
Was there anything his family could have been spared from? Joe wished things had been different for them, “Nicky, I’m so sorry.”  
  
But Nicky explained that it wasn’t nearly the same kind of grief he had around his mother, “It’s strange to miss someone you’ve never met, but I’m glad I lit a candle for him, too.” He tilted his head over to Joe, his cheeks almost pink from the heat of the candles, “I think she would have wanted that.”  
  
He had just taken the picture, when Nicky turned slightly and asked if Joe wanted to light a candle for his loss, too. 

Joe tensed at his words, the moment broken, because the last thing he had planned on was talking about himself. He had wanted to stay focused on Nicky, because that was far easier, less painful, “No. No, thank you.”  
  
Nicky must have read between the lines. And though he wasn’t going to push him to share, he did ask if there was someone he talked to about it. When Joe stepped back, both ready to head back to the car, he shrugged and said his mom. Though he genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he had.  
  
Before climbing into the car, Nicky looked across the roof of it, “When’s the last time you talked to her?”  
  
 _‘Before you were kidnapped’_ , Joe’s eyes shifted down, “A while ago.”  
  
“You should call her,” Nicky suggested as he opened the door.  
  
“You don’t mind?”  
  
Nicky’s eyebrows rose, “Why would I?”  
  
 _‘Because of your mother,’_ but Joe wasn’t sure how to say it out loud and thankfully Nicky understood his silence. His features softened, and he gave him a light smile, “Call her when we get home, and I’ll make us dinner, alright?”  
  
Joe wasn’t sure how Nicky ended up taking care of him, when it was supposed to be the other way around. But he opened his side of the car, and stepped in, “Alright.”

* * *

Nicky didn’t really need to pay too much attention in the kitchen. Once the ingredients were piled into the pan, he stirred the sauce every now and then, but otherwise remained distracted by his own contemplation around his mother.   
  
Knowing what he now knew about his father, he wondered how far back the lies went. Worse, wondered if his mother knew about it, too. 

Nicky knew how much his mother sang, and prayed, but she also enjoyed sitting in silence during her Adoration Hour. She always talked about ‘bearing things patiently’, but she was only human. As saintly as Nicky liked to remember as, how many times did his mother suffer in that silence? How many times did she swallow what she really thought? About her husband moving them across the world, around giving up her professional career, around Roberto, around her illness, around whatever his Dad was doing with Merrick for who knows how long . . . _around, around, around._

Did all the things left unsaid, get lodged in her throat, eating away at her until she died?  
  
Nicky lowered the heat as the sauce bubbled in front of him, and heard Joe’s voice upstairs, unable to make out the Arabic he used to talk to his own mother, but enjoying the sound of it nonetheless.

How many times was Nicky told he was like his mother?

It was always meant as a compliment, but maybe it ran deeper than that.

Maybe too many things were left unsaid on his end, and he had to wonder if it was time to speak up.  
  
  


* * *

Joe was sitting in his chair in his studio, staring out the window at the dark landscape across the way. He knew he didn’t have to text her first, his mother would be all too happy to pause whatever she was doing to answer a call from him. And sure enough, she picked up on the second ring, “Hi, Mama.”  
  
“Evening, habibi,” her familiar voice greeted him warmly, “I’ve been texting you too much, I’m glad to hear your voice.”  
  
Joe could tell she was smiling, but apologized anyway, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to avoid you just got busy with the job.”  
  
“Everything alright?” her tone shifted to one of worry, and he tried to be careful of how he answered.  
  
“I can’t really go into too much detail, but basically Nicky needed some extra protection,” hopefully that was vague enough for Nicky’s privacy, and his mother wouldn’t press for details.  
  
“Oh poor thing, I’m sorry to hear that.”  
  
Joe replied far too quickly, not thinking about how the statement might come across, “Luckily he gets to stay with me - “

“Really?”  
  
 _‘Shit’_ , he could hear the playful tease in her response, and he tried to play it down, “Just for now, just until things settle down.”  
  
She didn’t buy it for a moment, “Uh huh.”  
  
Joe tried to steer the conversation away from any further questions she might have about their arrangement, and more towards Nicky’s encouragement to get in touch with her, “He heard how it had been a while since I called you, and suggested I should before it gets too much longer.”  
  
His mother laughed heartily, “Tell him I love him.”  
  
 _‘Me, too,’_ Joe thought, then tensed, _‘fuck, where did that come from?’_ . . .  
  
“Yusuf?”  
  
Joe sank further into his chair, “Hm?”  
  
“Is he your Qamar?”  
  
He ran a hand over his face, before curling it around the back of his head. He didn’t have to think about it for long, he already knew the answer, “I think so.”  
  
She naturally encouraged him to tell him that, but a sadness rolled over his tense shoulders, making them slump, “It’s more complicated than that.”  
  
“I think you’re avoiding again.”  
  
Joe stared up at the ceiling, “Please don’t start - “  
  
“A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child,” she explained, “I love you Yusuf, and I want you to cling to some happiness. You deserve it.”  
  
The words felt hard to hear, and he closed his eyes, “No, I don’t.”  
  
“Don’t argue with your mother,” she huffed in feigned annoyance, and he wearily opened his eyes, grateful for her love and support. 

They chatted a little longer about what she had been up to lately, and after far too detailed information about his numerous cousins, they said their goodbyes when Joe heard Nicky tell him the dinner was done.  
  
But the dinner was a quiet one, the rest of the evening passing by slowly.  
Every now and then they would glance at one another, but neither said much. 

At night though, Nicky stirred, not quite a nightmare, but enough that Joe reached over to wrap his arm around him. He mumbled something in his sleep that he couldn’t make out, but resettled easily against him. And Joe closed his eyes, grateful for even those small moments together.

  
  


* * *

_Day Eleven - Monday_

When Nicky woke up the next morning, he had tried to get up only to feel Joe pulling him close with a firm hand draped over his hip. He grumbled something behind him, but Nicky could tell he was still sound asleep. Joe would likely wake up mortified once he realized he was essentially forcing him to stay in bed, but Nicky merely closed his eyes with a smile.

By the time he _had_ woken up a half hour later, Joe rolled onto his back, seemingly oblivious to what he had done, and asked if Nicky wanted to go to the lake that day as he stretched beside him. He happily agreed, and sat up with a smile, before asking if Joe would bring his sketchpad. He hadn’t seen anything within it yet, but if Joe’s sketches were anything like the doodles he made in the margins of his book, he was certain a lake scene would be perfect to draw. Besides if Joe had something to do, Nicky would feel less bad about them spending hours there. 

But Joe explained he had merely planned on reading while he swam, and Nicky leaned back against the headboard, “Well what about the camera instead? Today looks beautiful.”  
  
Joe lazily sat up on his elbows, peering over at him, “I didn’t think you liked your picture taken?”  
  
Nicky thought it was sweet of Joe to remember, “Not particularly, but I guess if it’s just between us, and it helps you do something you used to like, then I won’t mind if you snap a few while I’m swimming?”  
  
Joe grinned up at him, and Nicky could feel his fingers flex in his lap, because he just wanted to cup Joe’s jaw and lean in . . . “So, mostly nature photos?”  
  
Nicky offered a compromise, “I’ll allow one photo, but only if you take one of yourself as well?”  
  
Joe shrugged his shoulders, agreeing to the terms easily, “Deal.”

  
  


* * *

That night, Nicky was taking a shower to - as he put it - _‘not smell like a lake’_ , while Joe stayed in the studio. He must have taken a dozen photos, mostly of the area, but sure enough Nicky had allowed one of him. He was sitting on the edge of the dock, the water running in rivets down his wet skin, with his feet dangled over the edge, ducking under the dark water. His body was angled away from Joe’s vantage point, but he still captured a part of his profile as he gazed over the lake. The colors of the sunset had warmed his skin, and he looked downright ethereal to Joe. 

Even before he took the photo, Joe knew he would cherish it.  
  
Naturally, a moment later, Nicky looked over at him having realized what he had done and claimed it was his turn. He walked up to him wearing the smallest swimsuit he owned, that now clung to his body and left nothing to the imagination.  
  
When Nicky held the camera between his hands, Joe stared down at him, asking him where he wanted him. Nicky took a step back, encouraged him to face the sunset, then lifted the camera to his face. He had likely wanted Joe to look over the water, but he had far prettier sights to take in. So just before he snapped the photo, Joe shifted his eyes over at Nicky, and smiled.  
  
But now _,_ Joe looked down at the sketch he had just finished of Nicky. He doubted it would look as nice as the photo he took earlier, but he removed it from the pad, and framed it anyway. There were several other sketches of him in the sketchbook: one of Nicky snuggling Felicia on the couch when he had fallen asleep holding her, and another of Nicky in the kitchen cooking when he didn’t realize Joe had stopped sketching the plants.   
  
The evidence of how much Nicky had burrowed into his heart was literally staring back at him.

Not only was the man in his sketchpad, he was on his camera roll, and in his shower . . .  
  
He swiped his hands over his face, and leaned back into his chair. 

This was getting ridiculous, and he was only allowing more tension to build between them the longer he went not addressing things.  
  
He knew there was a risk of speaking the truth, a chance that this was a bad idea even if Nicky felt the same, but Joe stood up and headed over to the craft bin anyways. He wrapped the framed sketch of Nicky, badly even if he was being honest, and placed it on his chair. He resolved not to draw again until he gave it to him.

  
  


* * *

_Day Twelve - Tuesday_

_‘Joe.’_  
  
Joe’s brow furrowed at hearing his name, but he relished in the way Nicky’s breath hitched in his dream. His soft gasp beckoned Joe to roam his hand further down his body. His lean, firm fingers curved over his hip bone, before dipping his own pelvis forward against the swell of Nicky’s round cheeks.   
  
When Nicky whimpered in front of him, Joe bucked at the sound, feeling his own cock swelling between his legs. He moved his hand down, wanting to see if Nicky’s felt as heavy and aching as his own -  
  
“Jo- _Joe_ -”  
  
Joe’s eyes snapped open.  
  
And he instantly stilled as he realized what had happened.  
  
Nicky’s face was practically buried in his pillow, his hands clutching the sheets, but Joe’s own hand had almost reached his dick and he hurriedly pulled it back, mortified at his actions, “I - I’m so sorry.”  
  
He backed away, already starting to sit up, but Nicky seemed more confused than anything. He took a few deep breaths, his voice shaky when he tried to assure him, “It’s - uh okay.”  
  
But he was still facing away, and Joe needed to get out of the bed before he did something else that was equally horrendous - like let him see the effect this man had on his body, “No, it’s really not, I _shit_ -”   
  
He wrapped the comforter around his lower half, and stepped onto the floor from the end of the bed. He refused to look back just yet, certain the sight of Nicky’s flushed cheeks would be his undoing. Even when he heard Nicky call after him, he got up anyways, aiming for the door, “I shouldn’t have.”  
  
“Joe, wait,” Nicky sounded sad as he sat up, and Joe paused, worried him walking out of the room might hurt Nicky’s feelings.

Joe knew he needed to turn around and just be honest. No matter how complicated it was, if he was literally dry humping the man in his sleep, it was time to be honest. He just genuinely didn’t know what would happen once the words were said out loud. Because frankly, they could never be taken back.

Though this was not how he had imagined he would be declaring his feelings.

He didn’t _want_ to declare them like this, not with a comforter wrapped around him, looking back at Nicky’s confused face. The _last_ thing he wanted was for Nicky to think it was just some spur of the moment tumbled out words. He deserved _more_ than that, to be romanced, and cherished. And some ideas already came to mind as he finally glanced back. 

“I - I’m going to head to the store early,” Joe didn’t raise his eyes to Nicky’s face, but saw his fidgety hands in his lap, “Can we talk when I get back?”  
  
Nicky’s fingers curled over his knees, “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah,” Joe reached for the dresser drawer right beside him, and pulled out some clothes to head to the bathroom, “let’s talk when I get home.”  
  
“Alright, when you get back,” Joe couldn’t be certain since he was keeping his face towards the hallway, but he thought he almost heard a smile in his quiet agreement. It helped cool some of his nerves to know he wasn’t sad, or possibly offended, by his behavior.  
  
But still, he made quick work of getting ready in the bathroom. He stared down at his stiff cock but chose to ignore it, because he just wanted to get out of the cabin and try to hurry back. After several minutes, he opened the door, and saw that his bedroom door was closed. Almost afraid to open it and say all _sorts_ of things, he reached for his car keys on the nearby hallway table instead and called out that he was leaving. Nicky didn’t reply, and Joe wondered if maybe he had gone back to sleep. 

He hoped that was the case, and not that he was lying on the other side of the door, upset after all.

Joe headed to his parked car, and could tell from the clouds in the sky that a bad storm was coming. He would make quick work of grabbing the few things that were running low on, but his main goal would be to buy supplies for a nice, romantic dinner. He’d make Nicky a nice meal, eat at candlelight, give him the framed sketch and _tell him everything._

For so long Joe had considered that it was better to have Nicky in _some_ capacity, versus taking the risk of losing what little they had, by sharing his feelings. But Joe was ready, more than ready, and he headed to his car eager to rush back.  
  
  


* * *

Nicky had almost thought he was having another wet dream that morning.

Certain that once again he was only _dreaming_ of Joe’s hot breath on his neck, and of his sure hands roaming over his body. But when he opened his eyes and realized it was _really_ happening, he practically melted into Joe’s embrace.

And then he had to go and ruin the moment by calling out his name.  
  
He wanted to tell Joe how much he wanted to do those things, that and so much more. But his own confidence dwindled as he watched Joe practically scramble out of the bed, as if he was desperate to get away from him.  
  
It was only when Joe paused at the door, and admitted that he did want to talk about some things that a flicker of hope stirred in Nicky’s heart. Even though he had no idea where he was going, Nicky could appreciate needing a bit of time and space to collect his thoughts. He readily agreed to wait to discuss things once he was back. 

But there was one thing he needed to address first, and he stared down at his lap with a sigh.

He would have much rather had Joe’s hands on his dick that morning.

Figuring he’d have a little bit of time with Joe taking a shower, Nicky closed the bedroom door, already tugging at his pajama bottoms before he had even returned to the bed. He doubted it would take long, but not even minutes later, he heard Joe in the hallway calling out that he was leaving. Nicky clamped his mouth shut, his face flushed from the effort of trying not to moan, and wondering if he had remembered to lock the door.  
  
Just the _thought_ of Joe possibly walking in, had made Nicky imagine him stepping across the room to finish the job. Beads of precum seeped from his cockhead, and it took _every bit of his effort_ not to start cumming until he heard Joe close the front door.

After, when he stared down at himself and saw the evidence spilled on the floor, Nicky wondered how he was ever going to make it to later.  
  
  


* * *

_Fuck._ _  
__Fuck._ _  
__Fuck._  
  
Joe had managed to leave the store a good forty five minutes ago, but the storm was relentless as it poured down thick globs of rain that slammed against the car. There was even some lightning mixed with strong winds, and several small branches were scattered over the county highway as Joe managed to evade most of them as best as he could. It was slow work though.  
  
And of course he had _still_ ended up running over a thick branch that punctured his front left tire.  
He rolled the car into the direction it was veering into, and pulled onto the side of the road.  
  
He was five miles away from home, on an empty road, and after calling his insurance company was told they wouldn’t be able to tow his car back home till later that evening.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
According to his phone the storm was moving, but it would still take a while.

He called his insurance company back, told him of his plan to walk home, and left a note on his dash, informing anyone who might come across the car, that it would be towed soon. Joe half hoped someone would, if anything so he didn’t have to carry three bags of groceries in the rain, but he knew the area well enough. He had partially bought the property _because_ of how isolated it was.

He turned on his hazard lights with a frustrated groan, and popped open his trunk.

* * *

Hours, Joe had been gone for _hours_ .  
  
Nicky wasn’t exactly _pacing_ the cabin, but the longer things were taking, the more worried he was becoming. He _could_ just call him, but if he needed space to get his words together, then Nicky didn’t want to interrupt.   
  
Instead, he tried to stay busy: reading, cooking, scrolling on his phone, but the storm didn’t help. A part of Nicky’s nerves tingled, worried that Joe could have gotten into some kind of accident.   
  
He even made his way upstairs to Joe’s studio, hoping to look out the large windows to stare at the long winding driveway _willing_ Joe’s car to appear. But as the time ticked on, Nicky stepped back thinking he should just text him after all, just to check in and make sure he was alright. He was certain he could say it casually enough without adding any pressure for Joe to hurry up. Yet when he turned away from the window, he spotted a wrapped gift on the chair off to the side.   
  
Nicky eyed it curiously, before he read the sticker attached to the top: _‘For Nicky.’_  
  
He smiled as he picked it up to open it, but stilled, wondering if that was why Joe had left. Had he planned something, and this gift was just one part of it? As curious as he was, he placed it back down, wanting to wait till Joe was back to open it. 

But just as was reaching for his phone to text him, the perimeter alert chimed below, and Nicky narrowed his gaze towards the gate to see Joe _walking_ . Not driving.   
  
He wasn’t sure where his car was, but he was carrying several bags, and Nicky hurried downstairs to meet him at the door. He figured Joe would likely want to address things first, but he was eager to greet him, taking the last two steps in one as he rushed down the hall. 

Though when Nicky opened the door, he saw Joe had placed the bags on the porch and was leaning against the doorway with his head down. He hoped he wasn’t feeling shy now, not when Nicky was _more_ than ready to hear whatever he might want to share on his heart. He knew there was a chance Joe might want to speak first, but if he needed some encouragement from Nicky, he was happy to give it. Just a silent assurance that he was there: ready, willing, eager, hopeful.  
  
He stepped closer, his hand moving to the center of his damp shirt, and Joe began to raise his head. Nicky leaned forward, tilting his head to rest his forehead against his, except when he did - he realized Joe felt warm. Too warm. 

Concerned, Nicky pulled back, raising his hands to either side of Joe’s face. His cheeks felt warm, his face looked flushed and his eyes took a moment too long to register Nicky in front of him, “Joe, I think you have a fever.”  
  
Joe mumbled something incoherent in response, and Nicky gently guided him into the house.

He had tried asking him questions, like what happened to the car, how long had he been walking, how was he feeling. But Joe barely managed a few words in response, and none that made much sense.  
  
Nicky led him to the sofa, and he slumped against it, his head rolling over the edge as Joe stared up at him, “Sorry.”  
  
Nicky wasn’t sure what he was apologizing about, but if he was coherent for even a moment, he’d ask him where he kept his fever reducing medications, and a thermometer. Joe grumbled they were in the bathroom, and by the time Nicky had returned with both, he was leaning down towards the cushions. But his clothes were wet, so Nicky made a detour to the bedroom and got him some dry ones before kneeling on the floor beside the couch, “We need to get you out of the wet clothes, alright?”  
  
Joe nodded but made no movement to actually do it. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be falling asleep, so Nicky did his best to tug at his clothes. Joe _sort_ of realized what was happening, and moved enough to help him, while Nicky decided he could put the other clothes on once his fever broke. He reached for a light blanket instead, and covered Joe before asking him to let him take his temperature.   
  
It wasn’t high enough to warrant a trip to the doctor, but certainly bad enough that Nicky didn’t want to wait to give him the meds. It took a bit of an encouragement, and a promise to Joe that he could rest just as soon as he took them, for him to tilt his head up enough to drink the water he offered. But once he did, he rolled onto his side, muttering, “Thank you.”  
  
He promptly fell asleep, and Nicky sank back on his heels, staring at the light sheen of sweat coating Joe’s face.

_Cazzo._   
  


* * *

_Day Thirteen - Wednesday_

Nicky had spent the majority of yesterday trying to help keep Joe’s fever down.   
  
But even with meds, and cold wash cloths, and soup, _and_ rest, he maintained a low grade one throughout the day. Luckily, he mostly slept, and save for a sporadic cough or sneeze, the worst of it seemed to be the fever and fatigue. He didn’t particularly care for food either, but indulged Nicky’s insistence anyway when he held the spoonfuls of homemade chicken noodle to his dry mouth. 

The only time he left his side last night was when the tow truck driver pulled with his car, and Nicky signed a form on his behalf. He winced when he saw the shredded tire, and the driver explained it was parked several miles away. He wished Joe would have called him, he could have at least helped him carry the groceries back home, but then maybe they would have both been sick.  
  
But it was when he unpacked the groceries, and saw the long candlesticks and bottle of wine he purchased that Nicky realized Joe hadn’t just planned on a talk. Between the idea of a romantic dinner, and the gift still wrapped upstairs, Nicky put together that Joe had made some very specific plans, and his heart warmed at the idea of Joe might say once he felt better.  
  
He grabbed two comforters, and some pillows, and made a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch. He stayed by him all night, periodically checking on him, listening out for any signs of discomfort, but luckily he seemed to be staying steady. Not better, but certainly not worse either.

However, Joe’s phone had rung no less than four times that day, and every time the word ‘Mama’ popped on the caller ID, Nicky debated answering it. 

He hoped she wasn’t fretting halfway across the world over Joe’s non answers, and decided on the fifth call to simply pick it up for him. He stepped into the kitchen, taking one more deep breath, before he slid the button across the screen to answer, “Hello -”  
  
“Oh, hello,” her accented voice sounded surprised, “Is this Nicky?”  
  
“I - yes, Missus -”  
  
“Fatima - just Fatima is fine,” she shared cheerfully, and Nicky leaned forward onto the counter with his elbows. She sounded friendly and he had to wonder if part of Joe’s natural charm came from her. She certainly didn’t seem intimidated to talk to strangers, and it helped him relax a little, well, as much as he could under the circumstances.  
  
“I’m sorry Joe hasn’t returned your calls, he’s a little under the weather.”  
  
Naturally, she sounded more concerned, “Is he alright?”

“Just a bad cold, but I’m making sure he gets lots of rest and fluids,” he tried to assure her.  
  
She went quiet for a moment, but when she did speak next, she seemed slightly relieved, “I’m glad you’re there to look out for him, he’s very lucky to have you.”  
  
There was a sadness in that statement, because technically that wasn’t the case, and he wasn’t sure how to reply to that. When the pause extended into a silent moment, he heard Fatima ask if he was still there, and Nicky snapped out of it, “Yes, sorry -”  
  
“No apology necessary, I should let you get back to things,” she patiently replied, “Tell my son to call me when he feels better.”  
  
Nicky smiled, “Of course.”  
  
“It was nice to meet you, Nicky,” Fatima chuckled, and Nicky laughed lightly, saying he was equally glad.   
  
Afterwards though, when he put the phone down, he saw that Joe was stirring, possibly having heard part of the conversation. He didn’t lift his head from the cool pillow Nicky had placed under him, but he did scan the room until he spotted him in the kitchen.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Nicky asked, already making his way over to him.  
  
“Tired,” came his one word gruff answer, and Nicky kneeled down on the small makeshift bed he had set up beside him.  
  
“You’ve been pretty much out of it for twenty four hours,” he leaned over, resting his hand on Joe’s forehead, but it seemed like the fever still hadn’t completely broken, even with the meds keeping it low grade, “I think if it doesn’t break by tomorrow night I should take you in to see a doctor.”  
  
He began to lower his hand away, but Joe tipped his head a little, closing his eyes, “No, please.” Nicky wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, and barely made out Joe’s muffled response, like he was already falling asleep, “Feels nice - “  
  
Did he mean his colder hand felt nice on his skin?

Nicky glided his fingers towards Joe’s cheek, and he let out a weak groan, “ _Qamari_ .”  
  
Nicky leaned closer, unsure if he heard him right, “Joe?”  
  
He let out a nonverbal grunt in response, and Nicky watched that worry crease form at the center of his brow. That same one that bothered him so many times before. This time though, he gently rubbed his thumb over it, once, twice, three times until Joe’s face relaxed under his touch.   
  
He wished he could do something for him, make things more comfortable for Joe, because he now groaned as if he was uncomfortable. But he wasn’t due for another pill yet, and so Nicky, as unsure as he was about it, sat up a little straighter and moved his hand over his hair, gently swiping his fingers over the short curls as he began to sing. Quietly at first, but when Joe tilted his face towards him, he raised his voice softly. It was an old Italian lullaby, something simple and short, but he cherished the way Joe’s eyes hazily opened when he had finished it.  
  
“Anta jameel jidan.”  
  
Nicky smiled down at him, he had no idea what he had said, but with the way Joe’s eyes shined at him, he figured it was some sort of compliment.

  
  


* * *

Joe saw only black at first.  
  
That’s how the nightmare always started. The blackness behind his lids, the reminder of how he had tried to close his eyes to the horror of what had happened before him. The screams though had imprinted themselves deep in his memories, and just like they had when it first happened, they would echo around him until he was forced to face the truth.  
  
Forced to face himself.

Face what he had caused.

A mistake, a horrible mistake.  
  
But one voice, one desperate, scared, small voice screamed louder than the rest: _‘Yusuf!’_

And just like every time he had that nightmare, he jolted awake, his mind needing a moment to realize he was no longer there.   
  
This time though, he wasn’t alone. Nicky was beside him, his wide eyes staring down at him, “Joe, it’s alright - it was a nightmare.”  
  
Joe blinked, trying to sit up, but his body ached in protest and he flopped back onto the pillows arranged behind him, “What - what happened?”  
  
Nicky let out a relieved sigh, his hands touching his forehead, and his cheeks before resting them on his chest, “Your fever finally broke.”  
  
“What?” Joe glanced around the room, trying to figure out how long he had been there. The sun had set, and the living room was fairly dark, save for the small fire in the corner. When he had asked how long he had been on the sofa, and Nicky said ‘almost two days’, he was floored.  
  
Nicky reached for a glass of juice, and Joe managed to lift his head enough to take a few sips. As soon as Nicky placed the juice back on the table, he went to pull his hand away from his chest, but Joe reached up, encasing his hands over Nicky’s, “You took care of me?”  
  
Nicky looked down at Joe’s fingers curving around his, answering with a silent nod, “You fed me, and - did you sing to me?”  
  
He gave him a weak smile, “Not very well, I’m a little out of practice.”  
  
Joe could barely recall the tune, and sadly not even Nicky’s voice, but his eyes widened a little when he remembered what he said, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable afterwards.”  
  
“You said it in Arabic, so I don’t know what you said,” Nicky tipped his head, curious, “Would you translate?”  
  
Joe used what little strength he had to lift himself up on his elbow, trying to level his eyes with Nicky’s who’s own looked bright even in the dark room, “I said, ‘You’re very beautiful.’”   
  
Nicky looked stunned by the admission, and Joe felt his fingers dig into his shirt, clutching the fabric. But he moved slowly, both because of the throbbing in his head, and to give Nicky plenty of time to say ‘no’ in case he was misreading this.  
  
Yet, there was no hesitancy on Nicky’s part, and as soon as Joe’s lips brushed over his, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue glided against the seam of Nicky’s mouth, and when his lips parted, Joe swept inside already feeling lightheaded. 

Their mouths slotted together at a deeper angle, and Joe moved his hand to cup the back of his neck. He easily glided his fingers up to the strands, a firm grip to keep Nicky in place, before he began to temper the kiss down to languid pecks. And just before he pulled back, Joe gently tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, which made Nicky moan into his open mouth.  
  
It sounded throaty, _needy_ , and Joe was already _desperate_ to make him do it again. But his lungs demanded a break, and he roamed his lips down along Nicky’s jawline. With his fingers still gripping his hair, he coaxed his head back with a tug, and trailed open mouth kisses towards his ear until he could lick the shell of it. Nicky’s little pants, and moans sent a delicious thrill down to his core, but it was the way he was now _clutching_ his shoulders, that encouraged Joe to tug his earring between his teeth, “Your moans are just as pretty.”

Before he even knew what was happening, he felt Nicky push him back onto the sofa, seemingly ready to _climb_ on top of him if he felt up to it. But the truth was, Joe’s head was pounding and he groaned a little at the swift movement. Nicky immediately stopped, observing his face, and suggested he’d get him more meds first. 

He really wished he wasn’t falling asleep again already, but his eyes felt horribly heavy, and at least Nicky was laying down beside him, whispering they could ‘talk in the morning’.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
_Day Fourteen - Thursday_

The next morning, Joe woke up a little groggy but feeling much better (well, at least physically).   
  
He could tell the worst was over, and outside of needing some actual food, he was able to sit up easily without his body feeling sore, or his head heavy. Most of the last two days passed by in bits of pieces, vague memories of Nicky walking him to the bathroom, or helping him out of his wet clothes, but it was the kiss just hours earlier that really came to the forefront.  
  
A kiss that was _everything_ and made Joe want to reach for Nicky to have more.

 _But -_ there was some guilt. He sort of _nibbled_ on the man, _and_ tugged at his hair, and he worried that he hadn't been gentle enough. Besides, he hadn’t really shared how deep his feelings ran, and he hoped Nicky didn’t think he was only interested in _that_ . Though then again, just the memory of his little pants against his lips made his dick twitch.  
  
He still hoped to make that candlelit dinner for him, but maybe he’d bump it up to lunch. He could go take a shower, get some fresh clothes on, and then they could sit down and talk all this out. Because they really, _really_ needed to talk first.  
  
When Joe peered over at the kitchen, he could see Nicky already cooking breakfast, his own hair damp like maybe he had already taken his own shower. 

Hopefully, he could manage standing up, and not make a beeline towards him.  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicky didn’t really know what to do with himself after that kiss.  
  
Joe had basically fallen asleep minutes after, and Nicky laid down on the floor wishing he’d wake back up so they could talk things over. But the feel of Joe’s lips, his tongue, his teeth on his skin, made it hard to go to sleep. And after an hour of silence, he decided he was unlikely to and instead made an early breakfast for himself just before sunrise. Then he went and took a shower, desperately trying not to think about Joe kissing any _other_ parts of him _just_ yet.  
  
Though he was genuinely relieved to know that Joe at least _wanted_ to kiss him. So when he heard him stirring on the sofa, he was more than ready for them to talk . . . except Joe practically kept his head down as he walked towards the hallway, mumbling that he’d ‘be right back’, before going to the bathroom.  
  
Nicky stood in the kitchen, slightly confused, but found Joe’s quick dash adorable. Was he actually nervous to talk to him? Big, strapping, strong Joe - who knew exactly how to drag a moan out of his body in less than ten seconds, now nervous to look him in the eye this morning?

Trying not to read too much into it, Nicky placed a full plate on the kitchen island, and waited for Joe to finish taking his shower.  
  


* * *

**  
****  
**Joe took a seat on the kitchen island, looking down at the dish of dry toast and eggs that, as Nicky quietly pointed out, was something easy for his stomach as he gained his appetite back.

But really, Nicky didn’t have to keep taking care of him. He had done ‘more than enough already’, and he wanted to assure him he was fine, “ - Thanks to you.”  
  
Nicky gave him a soft smile, before reaching for the now empty pan to rinse off in the sink. He was obviously wanting to give Joe some time to eat, and he forked at the eggs, allowing himself three bites, “I’m sorry I got sick.”  
  
Nicky shrugged as he turned off the water, “Not like you could help it.”  
  
He tried to take a few more bites, washing it all down with a glass or juice, but the small talk only made his skin itch. He glanced over at Nicky and saw him leaning against the counter, his hands curled over the edge, showcasing that lovely chest of his in the open button down. His lips looked even more lovely now that he knew what they tasted like, “So, about that kiss?”  
  
Joe leaned back on his bar stool, unsure where to start, “I didn’t really want to do it like that, sorry.” For a brief moment, something akin to concern passed over Nicky’s face, and Joe hurriedly added, “I mean, I did _want_ to kiss you. I just, sort of wanted it to be more romantic than _that_.”

His broad shoulders sagged, and he gave him a coy smirk with his reply, “I think a fireside kiss is pretty romantic.”

But Joe disagreed, if only because he worried he had inadvertently caused them to rush into it, like maybe he came across as not having thought it through, “I just had a whole plan and everything - “

“Like the gift in your studio?”

Joe’s eyes widened, “Did you open that?”

“No, but it does have my name on it,” Nicky pointed out, before he smiled, “Were you planning on giving it to me, and then kissing me?”

“Well, and the dinner,” Joe pushed his plate away, sort of sad that _all_ the surprises were ruined, “That’s why I went out, to get the stuff - _shit_.” He looked up at Nicky, “Did it go to waste?”

“Oh no,” Nicky tipped his head, “I put everything in the fridge. It’s still good.”

 _‘Then maybe -’_ Joe considered the possibility of a do over, “I’d like to cook for you tonight. Give you the gift, and try again.”

* * *

  
  
Nicky was certain his knuckles were going white with how much he was gripping the edge of the counter. It was taking all of his resolve not to pounce on the man, to shake him and declare that he didn’t have to try _this_ hard, “That’s sweet of you, but I wouldn’t mind more kissing.”

Joe’s cheek flexed, like he wanted that just as much, but he stayed frustratedly still on the stool, “I think you deserve to be romanced first. And I don’t want to rush you into anything.”  
  
“Who says we’re rushing? We’ve been tiptoeing here for six weeks, Joe.”  
  
Joe slumped a little, trying to explain, “I’m just trying to be mindful of what you’ve been through, and I don’t - _fuck_ , I feel like I kissed you too roughly.”  
  
 _‘What?’_ “You kissed me _perfectly_ .”  
  
“I don’t want to rush you, and get carried away -” Joe stilled, before looking up at him, “These things sort of have a way of coming back -”  
  
 _‘Is that what this is about?’_ Nicky lowered his arms, already walking around the island, “Joe, I know you’re not him. It’s alright.”

Joe turned a bit on the stool, but still didn’t reach for him, “You’d tell me if it got to be too much? We could stop anytime -”  
  
“I will,” Nicky slowly moved his hands up Joe’s bare arms, enjoying the way his body leaned closer already, “but it’s okay, _really_ .”  
  
Joe raised his hands to Nicky’s face, desire and passion making his eyes glassy, “It’s not a one time thing with me. If we do this I want more than that.”  
  
Nicky ran his teeth over his bottom lip, wanting to be honest, “I haven’t really done that before, but I want to try with you.”

He was desperate to kiss him, desperate to feel _more_ of him, but Joe _still_ paused him, “Nicky, wait, maybe we -”  
  
 _‘I’m just going to be direct aren’t I?’_ “We _want_ this.” And just for good measure, he lifted his hands to curl around the back of Joe’s neck, “I want you.”  
  
Joe’s features softened, “I want you, too.”  
  
Nicky’s fingers tightened against his flesh, “Then _have_ me.”  
  
Joe swooped in, lurching forward and slammed their mouths together. He stood up so quickly, that the bar stool gave way underneath him and crashed loudly onto the wooden floor, but neither cared. Nicky kissed him just as intensely back, and curled his tongue into his mouth when he felt Joe’s hands cup his ass. 

Joe took one round cheek in each strong hand, and hoisted him off the floor, while Nicky wrapped his legs around his lean waist. He was already tugging at his shirt craving to feel Joe’s muscles under his fingertips, when Joe moaned against him, a deep vibration that made him tremble in his arms.

And though all the blood was quickly leaving Nicky’s brain and pooling between his legs, one word did throb inside of his mind: _‘finally.’_

  
  


* * *

**NOTES:** AHHHHHHHHHHH FINALLLLLYYYYY *o* FINALLYYYYYY they admit they're feelings, they kiss, they're making out, they're gonna make up for six weeks of sexual tensionnnn YUMMMMMMMM  
  
BUT also, how sweet was this chapter? We got Nicky "The Tease" Di Genova who is wearing a thong during a race just in hopes to get Joe riled up xD We got Joe "let me take you to dinner, and you're sleeping in my bed now" Al Kaysani, who is all, "I'm here for you, your strong protector who will find a way to make things better" (except - he's got a _lot_ of things bottled up, and needs to reciprocate some of that vulnerability darnit!). Glad he got to talk to his mom, and realize he's in love with the man, but sheesh, it's like pulling teeth with this man to get him to share his feelings. Also, the lake scene (even with blink and you miss it dialogue) was one of my favorite parts to imagine - just flirty Joe staring at Nicky while he takes his picture. And surelllllyyy he's going to frame that pic he took of Nicky at the dock, because it's the first one he got to take of him <3 AND THEN JOE DRY HUMPING NICKYYYYY hahaha - but at least it got things propelled into action! Too bad he got sick, though Nicky taking care of him was pretty sweet (including singing to him aw) . . . and finally f i n a l l y FINALLYYYY they are just effin honest, and I _loved_ that whole exchange in the end right before they kiss :D 

**ALSO** big shout out to Lisa Garland for the Arabic help! (you can find her in the comments, so show her some love <3)  
  
 **AS FOR NEXT WEEK:** . . . porn. That's pretty much it. Porn with feelings, and they do talk more, but uh - it's mostly porn @_@

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
